


Loners by Design

by WhosePOV



Series: Loners Together [1]
Category: A Gifted Man, Barney Miller (TV), Joker (2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Angst, Eventual mild smut, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Health Issues, Romance, Slow Burn, arthur fleck does what he wants, arthur fleck gets help, arthur fleck helps others, mention of past child abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:09:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 69,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24220360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhosePOV/pseuds/WhosePOV
Summary: In an alternate reality, an anxious, phobic housekeeper teams up with the cops from Barney Miller and the folks from A Gifted Man to save Arthur Fleck from a life of crime.Most events from Joker are present, but with a different outcome. Lots of liberties are taken with location and timeline.
Relationships: Arthur Fleck & Anton Little Creek, Arthur Fleck/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Loners Together [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1768006
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	1. A Heartbreaking Clown

**Author's Note:**

> This story focuses mainly on Arthur Fleck|Joker, but characters from Barney Miller, A Gifted Man, and others from Joker (2019) make several appearances, some brief.

Even though Nicole enjoys going for a jog after work, some days it’s harder than others to actually get out there. Anxiety and phobias have plagued her since childhood, so at times it’s hard to leave the house. She shows up for work every day, but there are times when she’s up half the night wondering how she’s going to talk herself out the door.

It had been that way this morning. She felt like she’d just fallen asleep after tossing and turning when the alarm clock rang, signaling it was time for work. She had a headache, and her queasy stomach made eating breakfast almost impossible. If she didn’t eat something, her head would just get worse and she’d be miserable at work until lunchtime. She usually gets up earlier than necessary because she walks to her job at Holt Neuro. Bus rides give her anxiety, so she generally avoids them. She has a driver’s license, but city driving gives her even more anxiety than riding a bus. She prefers walking to places whenever possible. At least that way she’s in complete control of where she goes and who she travels with.

That morning when she got to work, the first person to greet her was Rita, Dr. Michael Holt’s personal secretary. At first Nicole had found Rita brusque and a real hardass, but after a while, Rita had warmed up to her. Nicole attributes it to her work ethic. She always goes above and beyond, working as quickly and efficiently as possible to make up for any problems that might arise from her anxiety disorder. There isn’t any shame in being a woman in her mid thirties who works in housekeeping, but she knows how others must view her--like she isn’t motivated to do anything more with her life. She has dreams and plans like everyone else, but not everyone struggles with phobias, panic attacks, and social anxiety. 

Anyway, work is over now, and it’s turned out to be a pretty good day. There are things about her job she enjoys. People like Rita, for example, and her other coworkers. Most of them are married or have significant others as well as children. Nicole hasn’t had a boyfriend in years, and while part of the reason might be due to social anxiety, she truly doesn’t crave a romantic relationship. Once the workday ends, she’s had enough of dealing with people and enjoys her personal space.

Like now. This jog feels really good. She maneuvers around a kid on a bicycle and pauses to let a slow-moving old lady with a cane make her way diagonally across the sidewalk. The woman smiles at her and nods, as if surprised that Nicole doesn’t trample her. That would be the typical Gotham way, but Nicole wasn’t raised to be inconsiderate. That’s been her biggest problem in the past. Polite people get trampled--a sad but true fact.

She hits her stride again and lets her thoughts drift while her sneaker-clad feet rhythmically strike the pavement. Nearing an alley, she hears thumping sounds and kids shouting. Curious, she slows her pace and glances toward the voices. 

Her stomach lurches. Halfway down the alley, a group of kids kick a guy cowering on the pavement. One hand protects his privates and his other covers the back of his head. A moment later, the kids turn and run off, leaving their victim limp and panting. 

Nicole’s first instinct is to go help the guy, but one can never be too careful, especially in Gotham. As her mother always reminds her, there are all kinds of crazy people around. Personal experience has taught Nicole that no good deed goes unpunished. Still, she can’t just ignore the situation. The nearest payphone is a good five minutes away. What if this guy is seriously hurt, possibly concussed with the chance of choking to death on his own vomit? 

“Damn it,” Nicole mutters and runs down the alley, her heart racing. She stops close enough to get a good look at the guy, but far enough that she can still run if it turns out he’s not just a helpless victim after all. 

By now he’s lying on his back. His lopsided green wig combined with his painted face and oversized shoes indicate that he’s a clown, but what kind? Is it his profession, or does he dress this way to lure victims of his own, maybe those kids? No. They were too old for that. Teenagers, a couple of them bigger than this skinny guy.

“Hey,” she says. “Are you okay?”

He rolls his head toward her. Huge blue-green eyes, glistening with pain, focus on her. “Yeah. I think so.” His voice is soft and breathless. He licks his red painted lips and makes an effort to sit up.

“What's going with those guys?”

“They stole my sign.” He winces and sits up, wrapping an arm around himself and rocking a bit.

Nicole glances at pieces of a sign strewn across the pavement. She hadn’t noticed before, thinking it’s old garbage, like the other stuff filling up not only alleys like this, but the rest of the city. The whole place reeks worse than ever since the garbage strike.

She reads what’s left of the sign. “You work at a store?”

“The music store a few blocks away hired me. I’m a clown.” He looks a little sheepish. “But I guess you can see that.”

“Why did they take your sign?”

“Who knows? They probably just wanted to have a little fun.” He pushes himself to his feet, but he’s still shaky. 

Instinctively, Nicole reaches out to steady him. Only when she has her arms around his narrow waist does she realize what she’s doing. This guy is a total stranger. Maybe he’s got lice or something, but he smells like clean sweat, soap, and a slightly waxy aroma--maybe his face paint? Oh, and there’s something else. Cigarettes. She tries not to wrinkle her nose. She can’t stand cigarettes.

He stares at her, apparently as surprised by her arms around him as she is. They step away from each other and he adjusts his wig. It’s a bad wig and doesn’t exactly sit right on his head. He’s got a cute face, though, and there’s something heartbreaking about a beaten-up clown. 

“Do you want me to call the police? An ambulance maybe? I can make a run for the payphone?”

“No. I think I’m okay.”

“That’s beside the point. Those punks shouldn’t get away with this.”

“The police won’t find them. I have no idea who they are. Like I said, they were just kids.”

“They’re assholes. And you might have internal injuries.”

Concern flashes across his eyes, but vanishes quickly, replaced by a cold, resigned look. “I doubt it. It’s not the first time this happened and it probably won’t be the last.”

“What do you mean?” She falls into step beside him on the way out of the alley. He’s limping and still has his arms wrapped around himself. 

“Nothing.”

“It’s not my business, but you really should get checked out by a doctor.”

“I can’t afford it.”

Damn. Nicole understands, though. If she didn’t get insurance through work, she probably couldn’t afford a trip to the ER, either, and she’s not sure how much clowns make. It can’t be too much.

“Have you ever gone to Clinica Sanando?” She’s never been there as a patient, but her boss volunteers there in his free time.

“No.”

“It’s a free clinic. I can--” She almost says she’ll give him directions, but how can she send him on his way when he’s clearly hurt? He’s walking slowly and his breathing is still a little ragged. “I can take you there.” Damn it. That means the bus, but it’s too far to walk, especially in his condition. 

“No, you don’t need to do that. I’m okay. Tha. . .thanks for your help.”

“I didn’t really do anything.”

“You stopped to ask. Around here, that’s something.” He meets her gaze with those expressive eyes. He must be a wonderful clown with eyes like that, able to communicate so many emotions, even through heavy makeup.

“Listen, the bus will be across the street in about two minutes. It stops right near the clinica. Come on. I’ll ride with you. Like I said, it’s free.”

He hesitates and she almost hopes he’ll refuse. Right now just the thought of getting on the bus has her stomach in knots. 

“Uh. . .okay.” He curls his lip slightly, looking as anxious as she feels.

They make it to the bus stop just seconds before it arrives. Nicole’s heart pounds and she tries to regulate her breathing. It’s just a bus. She can do this--get out her money and walk on. She lets the clown go first. Somehow mimicking his movements--taking out her change, paying, walking to an empty seat--is easier when she follows him.

He sits near the window, but he doesn’t look out. Instead, he stares at her. It makes her uncomfortable, but maybe she’s freaking him out, too. He seems a little shy, but that doesn’t make sense. A shy person wouldn’t choose clowning for a profession.

“What’s your name?” he asks.

“Nicole. What’s yours?”

“Arthur. My name is Arthur Fleck.”

“Nice to meet you, Arthur. I wish it wasn’t under these circumstances, though.”

“Yeah. Me too.” They ride in silence for a few minutes, and then he says, “Why are you doing this?”

“You can use the help, right?”

“But why are _you_ doing this?”

“I don’t know. I guess if I had the crap kicked out of me, I’d want someone to help.”

He stares at Nicole blankly for a moment, and then he swallows hard before bursting into laughter.

Nicole’s brow furrows and her face heats. He’s hysterical--barking like a proverbial seal. Her first thought is that he’s laughing at her, that he’s somehow trying to make a fool of her. It’s her anxiety talking. All she did was stop to help. If he’s some kind of weirdo. . .

“What the hell, buddy?” The man sitting in front of them turns around and scowls. “Will you shut up?”

Arthur glances from the guy to Nicole, shoving his hand over his mouth and shaking his head. His eyes are watering and it’s then she realizes the expression in them isn’t one of amusement, but pain and embarrassment. He reaches into his pocket, pulls out a card, and hands it to Nicole.

_Forgive my laughter. I have a condition. More on back._

She flips the card and feels even worse when she reads that his inappropriate laughter is caused by a brain injury.

By now a few other people are mumbling. Nicole is ready to crawl under the seat, not because she doesn’t sympathize with him, but because she cannot stand attention on herself. When she was a kid, she thought that if people didn’t notice her, didn’t pry into her life, she could keep her anxiety and phobias secret. She wouldn’t have to answer questions about why she didn’t act and think like others. Now there’s a busload of people staring in her general direction, and even though it’s been years since she’s actually cared about being unnoticeable, old memories rush back. 

_Be reasonable, Nicole. This isn’t about you. This poor guy can’t catch a break. He’s the one who not only has a brain injury, but just got beaten up by a bunch of punks._

“What’s wrong with you?” The angry guy in front of them glowers. “I said shut up. Nobody wants to listen to you laughing like a jackass.”

“He can’t help it,” Nicole tells the guy coldly. “It’s a condition because he’s had a brain injury.”

The guy’s face reddens a bit. He grunts and turns away, muttering, “I had to pick a seat in front of a fuckin’ loony. The driver should let him off at Arkham.”

Nicole nearly sees red from anger. She wants to tell the guy off, but Arthur has started to calm down. His laughter is now just little spasms that he stifles in the crook of his arm. It seems like prolonging the confrontation with the idiot in front of them is a bad idea. 

Luckily, the guy gets off at the next stop, and the one after will be the clinica.

Arthur sits quietly now, his gaze cast down to his hands resting on his lap. They’re stained with red, white, and blue paint. His makeup is smeared, streaky from sweat and tears. Nicole unzips her hip pouch, removes a napkin she’d stuffed in there during an earlier stop at a coffee shop, and offers it to him.

“Thanks,” he says so softly that she almost doesn’t hear him. He blots his face. 

“Oh. Here.” She passes his card back to him and he puts it in his pocket. The bus stops again. “This is it.”

This time Nicole leads the way off the bus. Arthur follows close behind, and she nearly takes his hand. Usually she’s not a touchy-feely person, especially with strangers, but his sadness is almost tangible. The nasty teens. The laughter. The mean guy on the bus. It’s more than one person should have to deal with in a single day. Nicole has had days like that in the past, when she was a kid. She’d been the target of bullies that made her life miserable. Sometimes she wonders how she got through it, but she survived, and as an adult, she hasn’t had issues like that. Sadly for this guy, he can't seem to get away from it.

They step into the clinica, and it’s fairly busy. In the waiting room, sits an old guy on oxygen, a mom with three little kids, and a teenager with a cast on his foot. Nicole guides Arthur to the desk where a pretty, blond-haired woman in a white coat stands, glancing at a file. It’s Dr. Kate Sykora. Nicole has seen her a few times at Holt Neuro, but she’s sure Kate won’t remember her.

“Hi, can he see a doctor? A bunch of teenagers just attacked him.”

Dr. Sykora glances up with concerned blue eyes. “Of course. You were attacked?” She stares at Arthur.

He nods. “Just some kids having fun. They stole my sign.”

“Your sign?” Dr. Sykora looks confused.

“I’m a clown. I had a gig spinning a sign at the music store that’s going out of business.”

“When I found him, he was on the ground and they were beating the crap out of him,” Nicole says.

“Okay. Let’s get you looked at right now. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you here before. What’s your name?”

“Arthur Fleck.”

The doctor narrows her eyes at Nicole. “ _You_ look familiar, though.”

“We’ve seen each other a couple of times when you’ve come to Holt Neuro. My name is Nicole. I work there as a housekeeper.”

She smiles. “Oh. Okay. Well, don’t worry about your friend. We’ll take care of him. Come this way, Arthur.”

He glances at Nicole before following Dr. Sykora to an examination room.


	2. The Detectives and the Doctor

Detective Stan Wojciehowicz stares at his typewriter, his blunt fingers pounding the keys. He chomps on a wad of gum and mutters, “Paperwork. Can’t stand it.”

“It probably can’t stand you, either,” says Detective Nick Yemana. “How about some coffee?”

Wojo curls his lip. “Like my day isn’t bad enough already.”

Yemana’s coffee tastes worse than the garbage piling up all over Gotham.

“Well if you don’t let paperwork pile up, you wouldn’t have this problem, man,” Detective Chano Amenguale tells him. “Never put off for tomorrow what you can do today.”

“But it’s paperwork.” Wojo insists.

"Oh no!" Chano shouts, staring at the watery mess on his desk. "What is this? Is the roof leaking again, or did Yemana spill coffee on my desk?"

"It's the roof," Wojo says. "There's a leak in the bathroom, too."

Yemana strolls over to Chano's desk. "Yeah. That's rain. My coffee is clearer than that."

Chano raises an eyebrow. "Sadly, I think you're right. There are not many things dirtier than Gotham rain."

"Except the garbage piling up everywhere," Wojo says. The phone rings and he picks it up. “Twelfth precinct. Wojciehowicz. . .Okay. We’ll be there in a few minutes.” Wojo grins and rises quickly to his feet just as Captain Barney Miller steps out of his office.

“How’s the paperwork coming, Wojo? Caught up yet?” Barney asks.

“He’ll need another month to catch up on that.” Detective Burke chuckles. Wojo flashes an angry look in his direction.

“Uh. . .Just got a call from the Clinica Sanando. Some clown just got beat up by a bunch of teenagers.”

Barney looks serious. “Hey, Wojo, that’s not very professional to call a victim a clown.”

“Oh, no, Barn.” Wojo’s grin fades. “I mean it’s a guy dressed in a clown suit. He was spinning signs in front of a music store and got jumped.”

“Oh. I get it now.” Barney relaxes. “Chano, you and Burke go to the clinica. Wojo, keep on that paperwork.”

“Aw, come on, Barn--”

“I mean it, Wojo.”

“Come on, man. Let’s go.” Chano grabs his jacket and motions for Burke to follow him.

* * *

Arthur fidgets while Dr. Sykora examines him. She’s really pretty, and he feels so stupid sitting there, skinny, bruised, still sweating from chasing those fucking kids and suffering an extended laughing episode on the bus. Not that a woman like this would notice him on a good day, and the truth is, he’s not actually attracted to her. 

Nicole, however, has really grabbed his attention. Maybe because she’s bothered to pay attention to _him_. It’s almost worth getting beat up to have someone look at him like that. Really look, and give a shit. She’d touched him, and she’d stood up for him on the bus, too.

“Okay, it’s a good thing you were wearing that fake clown nose when they hit you with that sign,” Dr. Sykora says. “It probably saved you from getting your real nose broken. I’m not sure about your ribs, though. You’ll need an x-ray.”

“I can’t afford--”

“Due to a grant, we just got our own brand new X-ray equipment and we can do it right here. Nicole must have told you this is a free clinic, so don’t worry about payment. If sometime in the future you can afford to donate something, we’ll be glad to take it.”

“I. . .thanks.” Arthur isn’t sure what to say or how to react. It’s strange, having so many people be nice to him in a single day. Maybe this isn’t real. He might still be lying on his back in the alley. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s hallucinated about nice things happening. He’s had some bad hallucinations, too, but one like this he can handle.

“I have to call the police about this.” She continues examining him.

“No. Don’t do that. They were only kids.”

“You keep saying that. Do you know them?”

“No, but I don’t need any trouble.”

“They already gave you trouble. I’m going to take your blood pressure again because it was really high when I took it a few minutes ago. It might be due to the medications you’re on. That’s quite a list.”

“I know.”

"How's your appetite?"

Arthur shrugs. "Not so good."

“Smoking can do that. I noticed a pack of cigarettes fell out of your pocket over there. ”

He glances to his pack under the chair where he’d piled his clown clothes.

“It keeps me sane. Sort of.” A wry smile tugs at his lips.

“I get it, but it can also be really harmful combined with your medication. Face it, cigarettes aren’t good in the first place.”

Arthur tenses. “I know. I’ve heard it from everybody from my mother to my counselor.”

“Are you on the city program?” she asks.

“Yeah."

"Is talking to a counselor helping?”

“I thought I was here because I got beat up. No offense.”

“Okay. I just want to make sure there’s nothing else I can help you with.”

“There’s psychiatric assistance here?”

“We can certainly point you in the right direction.”

“Probably the city program, right?”

She smiles. “Pretty much, but we have some other options, too.”

Other options. That’s not something Arthur hears very often.

“Do you want me to let Nicole know you’ll be a little longer, due to the X-rays?” asks the doctor.

“She’s probably gone. I don’t really know her. She stopped to help me today. That’s all.”

Dr. Sykora looks surprised. “Oh. I’m sorry. I just assumed you guys are friends.”

 _I wish_ , Arthur thinks. It would be nice to have a friend.

The X-rays take a little while, but it turns out that other than severe bruising, he’s okay. Just like he thought. He’s tougher than he looks. Always has been.

“I suggest over the counter medication for pain,” Dr. Sykora tells him. “And some ice for the bruising. We’ve called the police and they want to talk to you, so we’d appreciate it if you'd stick around for a few minutes.”

“Okay.” What does he have to lose? He’s probably in trouble at work already for disappearing in the middle of a gig. No one knows he was jumped, but at least now he’ll have proof, right?

He returns to the waiting room, still feeling a little disoriented. He has a note in his pocket from Dr. Sykora suggesting that he take the rest of the day off. His boss, Hoyt, will probably ignore it anyway. 

“Arthur, hey.” Nicole approaches. She’s drinking a bottle of juice, probably from the nearby vending machine. She can’t really still be here. He’s imagining it, but she hands him a cold bottle of apple juice. He takes it. Feels it. If he can touch it, then it’s real, right? “What did the doctor say? Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Just bruises.” His brow furrows and he resists the urge to touch her, just to make sure she’s real. The juice is real, but her? “What are you still doing here?”

“I wanted to make sure you’re okay. Are you ready to go?”

“The doctor called the police. I have to give a statement.”

“I’ll stick around.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Would you prefer I leave?” She looks genuine, her blue eyes wide.

“You’ve been nice enough. I’m wasting your time.”

She looks at him and smiles. “It’s no big deal. I don’t have any plans.”

On a Friday. A cute lady like this has no plans. Well, it doesn’t make him feel so bad that a loser like himself has no plans, either, except to talk to the police, and by the look of the two men who have just stepped into the clinic, they’ve arrived.

The men stride toward Arthur and Nicole.

“Hi. I’m Detective Amenguale and this is Detective Burke. Are you the guy who was assaulted?”

“Yes.” Arthur’s pulse races. Authority figures make him nervous, especially male authority figures. He doesn’t want to talk to the police and wishes the doctor hadn’t called. It’s not like they’ll be able to find those kids, anyway.

“So, we got a call that you were assaulted. What’s going on?” 

“It wasn’t a big deal.”

“He was at a gig and this bunch of kids stole his sign. They were beating him up in an alley. I saw them to do it,” Nicole says.

“What’s your name?” asks Detective Amenguale.

“Arthur Fleck.”

Nicole gives her full name, too.

“Is what Nicole said about the kids true, Arthur?”

“Yes, but they ran off.”

“Can you give us a description?”

“It won’t do any. . .haha!” Arthur buries his face in his arm and laughs.

“Is something funny?” Detective Amenguale asks, raising an eyebrow.

Arthur shakes his head and continues laughing. He tries to control it, but the police and the entire situation have him so fucking upset. He just wants to go home and forget today ever happened.

Detective Burke looks annoyed. “Mr. Fleck, we can’t help you if you don’t control yourself.” 

“He can’t help it,” Nicole explains. “He has a condition.”

“What kind of condition?” asks Detective Amenguale.

Why can’t they just go away? Arthur pulls his card out of his pocket and hands it to Detective Burke who scans it quickly and offers a quirky smile. “Is this real? Or is it a clown thing?”

Arthur is furious, but he keeps laughing and chokes out, “A. . .clown _thing_?”

“Excuse me, Detective, it’s not a clown thing.” Doctor Sykora strides toward them, looking angry. “It’s called pseudolbulbar affect. People with the condition laugh and cry at times when they’re actually feeling the opposite emotions. It will pass shortly. Just give him a minute.”

Burke looks unconvinced.

Detective Amenguale takes the card from Burke, glances at it, and gives it back to Arthur. “It’s all right, Mr. Fleck. Take your time.”

Arthur’s laughter finally subsides. He keeps his gaze cast down, not sure that the detectives will take kindly to the rage that’s surely reflected in his eyes.

After a moment, the detectives continue with their questions. They ask him to file a formal complaint at the station, but he refuses. “Why waste your time?”

“Because it’s our job, Mr. Fleck, and it’s not a waste of time. They had no business bothering you like that,” Detective Amenguale says.

“I know, but it’s probably a one-time thing, and I have to get back to work. I’ll probably be fired for this.”

“For getting attacked?” Nicole curls her lip.

“My boss won’t believe me. He never believes anyone. The sign is gone, and even if I’m not fired I’ll have to pay for that.”

“Well, we can’t do anything about your sign, but I’ll talk to your boss,” Detective Amenguale says. “Let him know that you were treated here at the clinica.”

“If he needs further proof, here’s my card.” Dr. Sykora offers it to Arthur. “Tell him to call me. I’ll give him a written report of your injuries, if necessary, and you also have the note I gave you.”

“This can’t be real,” Arthur murmurs.

Detective Burke raises an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“Nothing. Thank you.”

“We’ll stop by the place he works--Ha Ha’s--on the way back to the precinct,” Amenguale says.

“Whatever you say, Chano. Between you and me, this guy is a little off.”

“Hey, man. Try to act like a human being for once.”

“I’m human.”

“Yes, a reflection of all our best qualities,” Amenguale says sarcastically before they step out of the clinica.

“Excuse me, I have more patients to see,” Dr. Sykora says with a smile and a nod. “Take care of yourself, Arthur. Nice to see you again, Nicole.”

“Bye Dr. Sykora.” Nicole waves, and then she turns to Arthur who is staring at her. She’s not super pretty like Dr. Sykora, but she has a nice face and a good body. Dark, shiny hair tied into a ponytail. Big blue eyes. She’s not wearing any makeup, which is a little strange for most women. Arthur’s mother is old and an invalid and she still puts on makeup each day. He always remembers her dressing up.

Nicole glances outside. “It’s getting dark. Maybe I should take the bus home. I hate riding the bus, though. Makes me kind of nervous.”

This shocks Arthur. “Taking the bus makes you nervous?”

“Yeah. I usually walk or jog wherever I have to go.”

“Well, I’ll be with you, right? On the bus, I mean.”

“Yeah. That’s true.”

The way she smiles at him makes him feel strange inside--warm. 

“Let’s go.” He leads the way out of the clinica, trying not to limp. His hip hurts where he took a bad kick, and his back and ribs ache, too. Fucking kids.

Nicole’s stop is a little before Ha Ha’s. He needs to go back to work to punch out before heading home for the rest of the day--that is if Hoyt accepts his doctor’s note. If Detective Amenguale talked to Hoyt like he said he would, that might make a difference.

The bus approaches Nicole’s stop and she turns to Arthur. “Good luck, Arthur. It was nice to meet you.”

He swallows, feeling like he’s losing a friend. How is that possible? He’s known her just a couple of hours. “Bye, Nicole. Thank you.”

“Can I maybe stop by Ha Ha’s sometime to see how you’re recovering?”

He stares, taken completely aback.

“I’m sorry. That must seem weird,” she says. 

“Yes. I mean. No. Yes, you can stop by. Any time. I get there in the morning, but I’m usually out at gigs all day.”

“Oh. Well--”

“Do you have paper?”

She pulls a pen and a little pad from her hip pouch.

He scribbles his phone number with shaking hands. Right. Like she’s ever going to call.

She smiles and writes her name and number on the sheet underneath. She tears it off, hands it to him, and stands as the bus stops.

“Bye, Arthur.”

“Bye.” 

She hurries off and he stares out the window, watching her jog down the sidewalk and disappear around a turn.


	3. Happy

When Nicole nears the old two-story house where she resides with her parents, her mother is already waiting at the door.

“You’re late,” her mother says. “We were getting worried.”

“I’m sorry. I should have called. A guy got beat up and I took him to Clinica Sanando.” Nicole steps past her mother, about to go upstairs to the apartment that she rents from them. It had belonged to her grandparents, before they passed on. 

“Who got beat up?” her mother asks.

It’s better to fill her in now. If Nicole were in her mom’s place, she’d be curious, too. She follows her mom to the living room where her dad is engrossed in watching the news. 

“Disgusting. Garbage everywhere in this city,” her dad grumbles. “What we need is Thomas Wayne to clean up the mess, and I’m talking about the human trash, too. People sucking off the system while decent people go to work.”

Nicole tenses. Normally, she’d agree with him, but since Dr. Holt started volunteering at Clinica Sanando and even brought some of the patients from there to Holt Neuro, she’s had a different outlook about the kind of people who “suck off the system.” Meeting Arthur has only reinforced that some people legit need the help, and they’re doing the best they can with what they’ve got.

Instead of engaging in an argument about the welfare system, she answers her mother’s earlier question, quickly recounting her meeting with Arthur. 

Her mom looks horrified. “Wait, you just approached that guy alone in an alley? Have I taught you nothing?”

“I couldn’t just ignore him. Like five guys where whaling on him.”

“It could have been a lure to get you down that alley. He could be crazy or a murderer or--”

“Yeah, I know, ma. It was risky.”

“Herb, what do you have to say about it?” Her mom turns to her dad, hands on her hips and her eyes narrowed, as if to say, _disagree with my advice to her, and you’ll be sleeping on the couch for a week._

Her dad is too fixed on the news to care. He waves his hand. “If she wants to be an idiot and pick up strange guys in clown costumes, that’s her problem. She’s not a kid, Edna.”

“Thanks, Dad. Thanks a lot.” Nicole raises her eyes to heaven. “He seems like a sweet guy, Mom. I feel sorry for him.”

“I can understand that, but I still wish you’d be more careful. Did you have your pepper spray with you at least?”

“Yes. I’m going to take a shower.”

“Do you want to have dinner with us?”

“Sure. I made chocolate chip cookies last night. I’ll bring them down.”

“We’re having lentils.”

“Awesome. I love lentils.” Nicole hurries upstairs, changes out of her jogging clothes, and showers quickly. At least it’s the weekend. Two days off to relax. She wonders how Arthur is feeling? Normally she doesn’t make friends easily, and she doesn’t want to, but there’s something about Arthur that appeals to her. Maybe it’s because he’s not full of himself, like most guys, or maybe it’s because she identifies with him. He’s not normal, but neither is she. 

What’s “normal” anyway? She’d spent a lot of time in counseling as a kid, but the only advice she got was how to become more like everyone else. As she grew up, she figured that if losing her anxiety meant losing herself, then fuck everybody. She basically likes who she is, even though it would be nice if she could get in a car and drive, worry free. That’s the kind of thing she’d like to control better. Even if she had the choice, she wouldn’t hang out with a lot of people. She likes her free time, and when she spends time with a person, it’s because there’s a real, heart-to-heart connection. It crosses her mind that maybe she could have a friendship like that with Arthur.

Or maybe not. That would probably mean more bus rides, and going out with him on nights when she wants to be alone. That’s what a relationship is, however. Give and take. It’s not like she needs to decide tonight, and just because she finds him interesting doesn’t mean he feels the same way about her. For all she knows, he has a girlfriend or a boyfriend already. 

* * *

Arthur sits in his social worker’s office. Debra Kane stares at him from across her desk, a look of forced patience with underlying disgust on her face. She always looks at him that way. He wonders if it’s just him, or if she’s equally repulsed by all her cases.

He tells her about getting jumped, but leaves out the part about Nicole because he’s still not exactly sure it happened like he remembers it. That’s part of the reason he’s asked his social worker to ask the doctor to increase his medication. Things haven’t been clear in his own mind lately, but maybe clear isn’t the purpose. Keeping his violent impulses under control is the main thing. He almost laughs again, this time for real. _He_ needs to keep _his_ violent impulses under control, but who controls people like those fucking little shits who hit him in the face with a sign and kicked him like an old bag of trash?

He didn’t imagine that. He’s got the bruises to prove it, and if he’s questioning whether Nicole actually stopped to help him, he has the piece of paper with her name and phone number in his pocket, along with Dr. Sykora’s note and business card. When he got to Ha Ha’s, Hoyt had already gone for the day, so Arthur will turn in the note tomorrow. That’s what sucks about his job--working weekends as needed. He sometimes wonders what it would be like to have a five-day-a-week nine-to-five job. He’ll never know.

“I’ll see what we can do about the medication, Arthur,” Debra Kane says. “Is there anything else you’d like to talk about before our session ends?”

“No, ma’am.”

“All right. See you next week.”

He nods and takes a long drag on his cigarette before he stands and leaves the office, his journal in hand. Keeping the journal is the social worker’s idea, and it’s actually a pretty good one. Writing in the journal is almost like talking to a friend. It’s good to write down his thoughts and see them, even touch them if he wants. He likes keeping a record of jokes and other things that help him on his way to a career in comedy. 

The social worker doesn’t get anything he writes, though. When she looks through his journal, she wears the same blank, thinly-veiled look of disgust as when he talks or laughs uncontrollably. She deals with people like him all day. Maybe some of them are in even worse shape. He’d probably be bored and disgusted, too. There are times when he can hardly stand to paint on his clown face, dance around, tell jokes and spin signs. Some days he just wants to hit something or someone. Or he wants to do something fun, that will make him really happy. 

Happy. What the fuck does that even mean? His mother calls him Happy. She’s always told him that he’s here to put joy and laughter into the world. Why him? Why can’t it be someone else sometimes?

He reaches into his pocket and removes Nicole’s note. He gazes at her neat, rounded handwriting and trails his thumb over it. What would it be like if she was an actual friend, maybe a girlfriend? He could call her right now and ask her out. Maybe they could go to Pogo’s, the comedy club where he’ll soon be performing. His material is almost ready and he knows it’s at least good enough for open mic night.

After picking up his meds at the pharmacy, he trudges up the long stairway toward his apartment complex. It’s the same as every night. He checks the mail, fights with the elevator, and finally enters his mother’s shabby apartment. 

“Happy, did you check the mail?”

“Yeah, Mom. Nothing.”

 _Nothing. Nothing. Nothing._ That’s his entire life. One big nothing. 

“What are you doing, Happy?”

 _I’m going to take a piss and I’d love to sit and relax for a while._ Of course he doesn’t say that to his mother. It’s not her fault he got beat up and is aching all over.

“I’m going to make dinner in a minute, Mom,” he says.

“Don’t make lasagna again. The last one was freezer burned.”

“Okay.” He steps into the bathroom and quickly uses the toilet. Then he glances in the mirror. He looks even shittier than usual. Sunken eyes and cheeks. Pale. He turns his face slightly and uses his sleeve to rub some white paint off his jaw. He’d missed it earlier, when he’d removed his clown costume. At the time he’d still been pretty shaken up from that beating. Speaking of that. . .

He shrugs off his sweater, unbuttons his shirt, and removes it, wincing at the pain that spreads from his right shoulder. He angles himself toward the mirror, straining to see the damage. That’s a fucking big bruise, not to mention a smattering of smaller ones.

“Fucking kids,” he mutters and turns to face himself, his blue-green eyes blazing. He shakes his head, puts his shirt and sweater back on, and goes to the kitchen to make his mother a frozen dinner. No lasagna, she said. What else do they have left? Fish sticks. Salisbury steak with vegetables. He needs to go food shopping after Hoyt pays him tomorrow. The other guys got their checks today, but by the time Arthur got to Ha Ha’s, Hoyt had gone for the day. He could have at least left the damn paycheck. 

After bringing his mother her dinner, they sit on her bed and watch the Murray Franklin Show. Arthur loves Murray. He makes everybody laugh. If only he could be a great comedian like Murray someday. Maybe if he’s famous enough, he’ll even be a guest on the show. That won’t be for a long time, though, if ever. What if he's able to see the show live, though? That’s not impossible.

He feels what it’s like--the band’s music throbbing in his veins. The lights dim over the audience and the spotlight shines on Murray. Nicole sits beside Arthur. She’s smiling, but not saying much. She’s kind of shy, and Arthur gets that. He doesn’t mind being the one to take the attention off her. He yells and cheers for Murray louder than anyone. Murray calls him out, and that makes Arthur nervous at first, but he manages to introduce himself. When everyone laughs because he says he lives with his mother, Nicole squeezes his hand and Murray defends him, saying that he understands what it’s like to be the head of the house, too. 

Taking care of Penny has always been Arthur’s responsibility. For as long as he can remember, he’s done chores, and tried to cheer Penny up when her boyfriends dumped her. He never understood why they always left. Back in the day, Penny was really pretty, and she always dressed nice. Arthur would tell her she was beautiful and she didn’t need to worry about those men. She had him, and he would always take care of her.

“I’d give it all up for a kid like you.” Murray holds Arthur’s gaze and then embraces him. Closing his eyes, Arthur leans against Murray. Maybe if he had a father like this, he and his mother would be better off. He could have taken care of them. Arthur might even be a standup comedian by now, with encouragement and being able to finish school instead of getting a job to pay the bills when Penny stopped working because of her health issues.

Arthur opens his eyes and sees Nicole in the audience. She’s smiling at him, like she smiled at him today. It feels really good.

The vision fades and he’s back in his mother’s room. She’s laughing at something Murray said, something Arthur missed because he’s been daydreaming again, so Arthur laughs, too. It’s learned behavior. When he zones out like that, he takes cues from what people around him are doing to make it appear like he’s paying attention. 

“I’ll take that for you, Mom.” He reaches for her tray and carries it to the kitchen. Instead of returning to watch Murray, he stands near the phone, his stomach clenched. His heartbeat quickens and he breathes faster. He lights a cigarette, and then he tugs Nicole’s number from his pocket. Should he call her? No. She said she’ll call him. Then why did she give him her number? Doesn’t that mean it’s okay to call, or that she even _wants_ him to call?

He places a hand on the phone, but doesn’t pick it up. He swallows and wipes his sweaty palm on his pant leg. All right, if he calls, he can’t stumble over his words. This is like preparing for Pogo’s. He needs to get it right.

He whispers, “Hi, Nicole. It’s Arthur. How are you?” He shakes his head and scowls. “That sounds so boring. How about ‘Hey, Nicole. What are you doing tonight?’ No. That’s too pushy, at least for right now. Hey, Nicole. I just wanted to thank you again for helping me today. Maybe we could--”

The phone rings and Arthur jumps, dropping his cigarette. “Oh my God!” He stomps it out with his sock-clad foot and grunts from the pain. “Fuck!”

The phone continues ringing, so he picks up. “Hello.”

“A. . .Arthur? Is that you?”

His heart nearly stops beating. It’s her. What if he’s wrong? “Yes. Who’s this?”

“It’s Nicole. I just wanted to see how you’re feeling, after today?”

“Good. I told you. I’m okay.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear it.”

Silence.

“I didn’t mean to bother you,” she says.

“You’re not bothering me.”

“Happy! Who’s that on the phone?”

“Just someone from work, Mom.”

Penny doesn’t bother responding.

“Someone from work?” Nicole asks.

“It’s my mother. I. . .she’ll just ask a lot of questions. Not that there’s anything to say about us. You. This is coming out wrong.”

Nicole chuckles a little. “It’s okay. My parents asked a few questions about you, too.”

“You told them about me?”

“Yeah. They wanted to know why I was home later than usual.”

“You live with them?” He must be imagining this.

“It’s a two family house. I have the upstairs part, but yeah. I live with my family. It’s pretty normal for us. I know there’s usually a stigma attached to adults who live at home, but not everyone who does that is a freeloader. Some of us just enjoy being with family.”

“I know.” He pauses again, and then he asks quickly, “Can you go to breakfast with me tomorrow morning? I’d like to do something for you. To thank you for helping me today.”

“You don’t need to do that.”

“I’d really like to. I can meet you wherever you want.”

“Well. . .sure. I have tomorrow off.”

“I have to be at work around ten because I have a gig at the children’s hospital, but I have lots of time before that. When and where do you want to meet?”

She suggests a nearby bakery that also serves light meals. He knows the place and agrees to meet her there at eight o’clock. 

“Happy!” Penny calls again.

“I have to go,” he says. “See you tomorrow.”

“You got it. Goodnight, Arthur.”

“Goodnight.” He hangs up the phone, his pulse racing. That conversation felt real enough. He guesses he’ll know tomorrow when he arrives at the bakery.


	4. Her Deepest, Darkest Secrets

In the morning, Nicole almost regrets accepting Arthur’s breakfast date. It’s not that she doesn’t want to see him again, but on her days off, she doesn’t like the feeling of having to be somewhere. Even if it’s meant to be fun, the thought of someone waiting for her is almost as bad as needing to show up for work. She nearly cancels, but thinks about how Arthur might feel if she does. He seems rather vulnerable, and she knows what that’s like. Besides, she’s curious what he looks like without his clown makeup. 

She dresses in a pink jogging suit, ties her hair back, and applies makeup. Not too much, though. She’s not into flashy looks. It’s great on some people, but not on her. She shouts goodbye to her parents who are in their kitchen drinking coffee, and then she hurries to the bakery. It’s strange that while she’s usually anxious about reaching her destination, she likes to get there as fast as possible.   
  
Nearing the bakery, she sees a skinny guy in a tan hoodie, pacing and smoking in front of the door. His longish, dark hair is unkempt, but thick and soft-looking. His big, blue-green eyes shift toward her and a faint smile plays around his mouth. 

_Arthur._

Nicole smiles back at him.

“Hey,” he says, dropping his cigarette and crushing it beneath his shoe.

“Am I late?” She looks at her watch. “Sorry.”

“No, no. I’m early. You look nice.” His gaze rakes her in a way that makes her feel naked. It’s both creepy and exciting. 

“Thanks. So do you. It’s nice to see your real face.”

He gives a little laugh, and she’s almost worried that it will get out of control again, but this laugh sounds different. Effortless instead of strained, and with an endearing little hitch at the end.

He holds the door open for her, and Nicole steps inside. He’s a gentleman, at least.

At the counter, she studies the variety of muffins, donuts, and pastries behind the glass. When it’s their turn, she orders a blueberry scone with butter and a hot tea. Arthur orders coffee, and he insists on paying.

“I said this is thank you for yesterday.”

She smiles on their way to a small table near the window. “And I said that’s not necessary.”

“It is to me.”

They sit and he watches her take a bite from the scone. Her stomach is uneasy. Ever since school, she’s felt self-conscious about eating in public. It’s part of her anxiety. She manages to swallow and says, “You’re not hungry?”

The guy looks like he needs a good meal, but some people are just thin, like others are chubby. It’s no big deal either way, as long as he’s thin by nature and not due to health problems.

“Not right now.” He takes a cigarette out of his pocket. “Do you mind?”

She’s not exactly sure how to answer. She doesn’t want to offend him, but she doesn’t want to lie, either.

“You do?” He raises an eyebrow.

“I’m sort of allergic to smoke.”

“Oh. Okay.” He puts the cigarette away and sips his coffee. Beneath the table, he bounces his knee. It’s not so bad at first, but then it makes the table vibrate. Maybe that’s why he wants to smoke.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

“Fine.” He clamps a hand on his shaking leg. “I just get a little. . .anxious sometimes.”

His words relieve her. “Oh hell, yeah. So do I.” 

“I know. You said the bus made you nervous. Why?”

She’s taken aback. There’s something refreshing about his almost childlike openness, but it also puts her on the spot.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he says.

“It’s not you. I’ve always been an anxious person, or at least as far back as I can remember. I think it sort of runs in my family.”

He stares at her and she can tell there’s a lot going on in his mind right now. He’s just not saying it. Maybe he thinks she’s weird. He obviously has his share of problems, but not when it comes to simple things like riding a bus.

“How long have you been a clown?” she asks, hoping to change the subject.

“A few years. To be honest, I sometimes have trouble keeping steady work.”

“A lot of people have that problem.”

“People need to work, though. You have to take care of yourself. And I take care of my mother, too.”

“That’s nice, Arthur. A lot of people can’t be bothered with family, but I think it’s important to take care of the people who took care of you.”

He looks deep in thought again and opens his mouth as if to say something, but then he shuts it.

After a moment, he asks, “How long have you worked at Holt Neuro?”

“Ten years.”

His eyes widen. “Ten years.”

“It’s a decent place to work, and the benefits are great.”

“Ha Ha’s doesn’t offer benefits. If they did, I wouldn’t be on the city program for. . .” His voice drifts off and he shakes his head.

“What were you going to say?”

“Nothing.”

“There’s nothing wrong with getting help. You have a job and everything, but medical care is really expensive.”

“I’m on a lot of medication.”

Damn. So he does have physical problems. “I’m sorry. If this is none of my business, just tell me, but do you have a chronic issue?”

He gives a little snort of laughter. “You can say that.” He meets her gaze and his eyes widen. “Don’t worry. I’m not contagious or anything.”

“No. I didn’t--”

“This is a really weird conversation.”

“Yeah.” She smiles. “What do you like to do for fun? Hobbies and stuff?”

“I love comedy. I do standup.”

“A clown and a comic. That’s cool. Where do you perform?”

He glances down at his napkin and twists it between his slender fingers. “Well, I haven’t actually performed yet, but my material is just about ready. Open mic night is coming up at Pogo’s again--Do you know the place?”

“I’ve heard of it. Never been there, though.”

“Do you want to come with me tonight? I go to make notes and listen to what the other comedians do. It’s like research.”

Nicole’s stomach clenches and she loses her appetite. She hates clubs. They make her anxious. All those people. And she doesn’t drink, either, so there’s little point in going to clubs. “I don’t think I can make it tonight.”

He looks disappointed. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

Nicole realizes he thinks she’s rejecting _him_ , and that’s not the case. “Arthur, its because of me. Clubs like that make me nervous.”

He lifts his gaze to hers. “Like the bus?”

“Yeah. I know it sounds crazy and a little pathetic--”

“No. It’s okay.”

“I’d go with you, but tonight is so fast. If you give me a little notice, then I can prepare myself. . .This really must sound crazy to you.” She can’t believe she’s telling a guy she just met her deepest, darkest secrets. It’s only because she really does want to spend time with him, and if she lies from the first, if she tries to cover up her fears about doing certain things, she’ll end up pushing him away. Better to be honest from the start. He probably won’t want to deal with her now. Why would he?

“So if we make a date, you’d go?” he presses.

That’s a surprise. “Yeah. I could do that.”

“Okay. I need to go before I’m late for work. I’ll call you later?”

“Yeah. I’ll be around. Thank you for breakfast, Arthur.” She stands and offers him her hand.

He takes it awkwardly at first, and then he squeezes it, his gaze locks on hers in a way that makes her belly tighten again, but not in a bad way. His hand is warm and dry. It feels nice. They leave the bakery together and she smiles at him before jogging off.

* * *

When Arthur arrives at Ha Ha’s, a few of the other guys are already there. He’s glad to see Gary, the only guy who’s ever been nice to him. The others think he’s strange, and he knows it. They usually ignore him, make fun of him, or humor him. The last one he hates most of all. He might have mental problems, but he knows when someone is being condescending, and it makes him furious. Sometimes when one of these guys talks to him like that, he wants to stick the pointed end of a makeup brush in his eye. The thought of it makes his head ring. It’s like an adrenaline rush, the fantasy of fighting back when someone pushes him too hard.

To his surprise, while he’s sitting there, stretching one of his oversized clown shoes that has never fit quite right, Randall approaches. Speaking of oversized, Randall is tall, thick, and can be just plain mean. He looks pretty calm today, though, and even sympathizes with Arthur about him getting jumped yesterday. He offers him a paper bag containing a gun and bullets.

“I’m not supposed to have a gun,” Arthur says softly, although he almost wishes he had one yesterday. It would have saved him the mass of body aches he’s feeling at the moment, but if he hadn’t been jumped, he wouldn’t have met Nicole, either. Like his mother says, every cloud has a silver lining.

Randall tells him it’s okay. That he needs protection. It’s true. Now that he’s seeing Nicole, he has to be able to defend himself. What if they’re out together some night and he has to protect her, too? 

He takes the gun, and Randall looks happy about it, but there’s something in his smile that makes Arthur uneasy. Why would Randall give him a gun? Randall thinks he’s a freak. He never tries to help anyone, so why now? Does it really matter? It’s not like anyone will know he’s carrying a gun, unless he’s forced to protect himself.

Gary tells him that Hoyt wants to see him in his office. Great. Here it comes. The confrontation about yesterday.

He heads down to his boss’s office and steps inside. Hoyt, looking as cocky as ever, sits behind his desk in a room filled with posters and entertainment memorabilia. He glances at Arthur. There’s a coldness to Hoyt--an arrogance and a lack of emotion that gets under Arthur’s skin.

“Gary said you wanted to see me?”

“Yeah. The cops were here yesterday about what happened at Kenny’s Music. What happened to the sign, Arthur?”

“I thought the cops told you I was jumped.”

“Yeah. I got that, but why would those kids keep the sign?”

Anger coils inside Arthur. “They didn’t keep it. They broke it on my face and it’s probably still in pieces in the alley.”

“Then I suggest you go pick up those pieces and return the sign or else it comes out of your paycheck. Oh, and I’ll have to dock your pay for yesterday, too.”

“I have a doctor’s note.”

“Isn’t that nice? That just means I won’t fire you, but I’m not paying you for nothing. What’s wrong with you anyway, Arthur? I give you a break and hire you and so far I’ve had nothing but complaints.”

“That’s not true. The children’s hospital has never complained. I’ve had lots of gigs that went great.”

“Yeah. Yeah. I guess you’re doing okay, but keep yourself out of trouble. Getting jumped. Missing signs. Taking half the day off. I can’t justify keeping you on my payroll for stuff like that. . .”

Hoyt continues ranting and Arthur just grins, blocking him out, though inside he imagines punching him in the throat and smashing his head into the desk over and over again.

After leaving Hoyt’s office, Arthur prepares for his gig. It goes pretty well. Still, he looks forward to going home, and at least he has tomorrow off. After trudging up the long staircase and entering his building, he checks the mail and then he steps into the elevator. 

One of his neighbors, a woman named Sophie, runs onto the elevator with her young daughter. She and Arthur talk briefly about the poor condition of the building. There was a time when Arthur had a crush on her and thought about her a lot, but since meeting Nicole, everything has changed. Mostly because Nicole actually seems interested in _him_.

In his apartment, he makes his mother dinner, helps her take a bath, and then puts her to bed. When she’s settled, he turns on the television and sits on the couch that also serves as his bed. There’s an old musical on TV. While watching, he takes out the gun Randall gave him. He imagines himself at a club with Nicole. They’re dancing. She looks really hot in a clingy red dress.

“Hey, Arthur,” she says, admiring his lean, shirtless body as he sways to the music. “You’re a really good dancer.”

He smiles at her. “I know. You know who’s not? That gu--” He points the gun, accidentally pulling the trigger. He falls over the coffee table and his mother shouts from her bedroom.

He tells her the noise was from the television. His heart still pounding, he examines the bullet hole in the wall. He needs to be more careful. What the fuck?

The phone rings. He quickly puts the gun away and answers it.

“Hey, Arthur. It’s Nicole.”

“Hey, how are you doing?”

“Good. I had a really nice time at breakfast.”

He smiles. “Yeah. Me too.”

“Can we do it again tomorrow? My treat this time?”

“Yeah. Definitely. Same place?”

“Sure.”

“How was your gig today?”

“It was good. Hoyt docked my pay for yesterday, though, and he took the sign out of it, too.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? What a jerk!” 

He grins. Knowing that she’s on his side makes him feel good. “I told you he’s a jerk.”

“Completely.”

“What did you do today?”

“After I left you, I went for a jog, and then I went home and cleaned the house. After that I looked at a brochure from the community college. I’ve been thinking about taking some night courses to finish my degree.”

“Why didn’t you finish before?”

“Well, I went to night classes, and I could only handle it for so long. Between that and work--”

“I get it. You should finish, though.”

“That’s what my parents said. I’m just a few credits away from my business degree.”

“What kind of business do you want to run?”

“I don’t really. I’m happy as a housekeeper, but it seems silly to be just a few credits away and not finish. I’ve tended to do things like that all my life. Start something and not finish. Have you ever done stuff like that?”

“Yeah. I guess.” Arthur never even finished high school. His brow furrows. “I keep talking about doing standup comedy, but. . .you know, I think I’m going to definitely sign up for open mic night at Pogo’s.”

“You are?”

“Yeah.”

“When is it?”

“Next weekend. Is. . .is that enough notice for you?”

“You want me to be there?”

“You don’t have to. I just thought--”

“Do you want me there?”

“Yeah,” he says in a small voice. It would be nice to have somebody to support him. He has no friends, and Penny already told him that he’s not funny enough to be a comedian. 

“Okay. I’ll be there.”

“I’ll come get you. That way, you won’t be alone on the bus. And I’ll take you home. Walk you to the door and everything, so you’ll be safe that late at night.” He thinks about the gun. At least he’ll actually be able to protect her.

“I’ll be fine, Arthur, but I’d like that.”

He smiles. “Really?”

“Yeah. I have to go. See you at breakfast tomorrow?”

“Same time, right?”

“That works. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Nicole.” He waits for the click on her end to signal that she’s hung up, and then he puts down the receiver. 

Grinning to himself, he flops onto the couch and lights a cigarette. He has another date, and one for next weekend. His heart thumps wildly. Now he _has_ to perform at Pogo’s. He told Nicole he’d do it, and she’s planning to go with him. He sits up, grabs his journal, and walks to the kitchen table. He’s not tired, and he really needs to get his material together.


	5. Get Rid of That Gun

“Hey, Arthur.” Nicole taps his shoulder.

He spins around, looking startled, and nearly drops his cigarette. She wishes he didn’t smoke those damn things, but it’s not her business. If they weren’t just friends, she’d probably say something because kissing a guy who tastes like an ashtray won’t work for her. It’s not like that for them, though, or is it? Can these breakfasts be considered actual dates? Will next weekend at Pogo’s be a real date? The way he looks at her tells her that he wants to be more than friends, and if that’s true, she’s fine with it because she thinks he’s pretty cute, too. Strange, because aesthetically, she’s typically into bigger guys.

“Hey.” He smiles, drops his cigarette, and stomps it out. “I was kind of zoned out. Thinking about my material for next weekend.”

“I’m looking forward to hearing it.”

His smile broadens. “I’m looking forward to you hearing it.”

“I’m hungry. Let’s get breakfast.”

Like yesterday, he orders only coffee. She gets a lemon muffin and tea. 

“You don’t like breakfast, do you?” She cuts her muffin in half and breaks off a little piece to pop into her mouth.

“Some of my meds kill my appetite.”

“That stinks.”

He shrugs, and sighs, tapping his fingers on the table. It’s as if he doesn’t know what to do with his hands unless he has a cigarette between his fingers.

“I’ve been thinking about what happened with those kids,” she says. “And a lot of other crazy stuff that’s been going on around Gotham. I mean, it’s always been a dangerous city, but between the garbage strike and all the political issues, people in general are losing their cool.”

“I know what you mean, but I’m not worried about something like that happening to me again.”

She holds his gaze. “What do you mean? Have you signed up for karate lessons or something?”

He chuckles. “No.”

“I was joking, but it’s not a bad idea, you know. I’ve taken a few self-defense classes. My parents signed me up for one way back when I was a kid, and I took another when a class was offered for free at the Clinica Sanando a few months ago.”

“That’s fine for some people, but I’m not exactly Lou Albano. A guy like me is better off with a weapon.”

Something in his expression and the tone of his voice concerns Nicole. What does she really know about Arthur except that he seems sweet enough, but he has a lot of problems. He looks deeply troubled, and while she doesn’t hold that against him, common sense tells her to be careful until she knows him better.

“What do you mean a weapon?”

His gaze darts toward his pocket and then back to her. He lowers his voice, a gleam in his eyes and a faint smile on his lips. “A guy from work gave me something to protect myself. That’s why you won’t have to worry about being out late with me. I’d never let anything happen to you, Nicole.”

Her stomach clenches and she sits back in her chair. That’s quite a possessive remark from a guy she’s just met. “Arthur, I can take care of myself. What did this guy from work give you?”

He glances around. Then he leans forward and whispers, “A gun.”

“What?” She almost shouts.

“Shh!”

She also glances around before she whispers nervously, “Are you licensed to carry?”

He shakes his head.

“Oh God. He doesn’t have a license.” She covers her face with her hands for a moment and tries to calm her pounding heart. If her mother was here, she’d tell her to get the hell away from him, and she’d be right.

“Who is this guy who gave it to you? A friend?”

“Actually, he’s usually a jerk.”

“Why would you take a--” She lowers her voice again. “A gun from him, then? Did you ever think that he wants to get you in trouble? Arthur, if you’re caught carrying a concealed weapon without a license, they’ll put you away.”

He looks a little confused. “You’re mad.”

“I’m upset, yeah.”

“I’m not going to let what happened with those kids happen again.”

“I don’t blame you, but this isn’t the way. You have to get rid of that gun, like ASAP.”

His brow furrows. “I don’t think Randall will just take it back.”

“He sounds like a fucking asshole. What if he used it in a crime and is trying to get rid of it by pawning it off on you?”

Now he looks a little concerned. “I didn’t--I guess I wasn’t really thinking at all. It sounded like a good idea at the time.”

“Arthur, we have to get rid of it.”

“How? I can’t just ditch it somewhere.”

“No. I have a better idea. Come on.”

“Where to?”

“Will you please just trust me. You have an ID on you, right?”

He shakes his head. “I’m not going to the police.”

“Arthur, it will be fine. We’re not going to the police station.”

“Then where?”

Nicole hasn’t gone to church since she was a kid, but the one down the street from her has been doing their best to help control street violence. All weekend they’ve hosted an anonymous gun surrender. Today is the last day, and if she and Arthur head over right now, he can turn over the weapon, no questions asked. 

On the way to the church, she explains about the program. He’s nervous, but agrees to turn over the gun. There’s a longer line than she expects. They wait for over an hour, and just before it’s his turn, Arthur bursts into uncontrollable laughter. 

Everyone stares at him, and some people make rude comments. The police officer waiting to take his ID and gun glares at him.

“He has a condition called pseudolbulbar affect,” Nicole explains. After hearing Dr. Sykora provide a name for Arthur’s laughter, she had gone to the library and looked it up.

The cop’s angry expression fades and he nods, processing everything as quickly as possible. She can only imagine what he must think--a hysterical guy turning over a deadly weapon. Yet isn’t that the point of a program like this? To get guns out of the hands of people who might--

Might what? She likes Arthur a lot, but there’s something about him she doesn’t quite trust. Maybe it’s her anxiety talking, or maybe not. He’s right about being vulnerable to scumbags like those kids who attacked him, though.

When they’re finally out of the church, she says, “Thank you for listening to me.”

“What you said makes sense.” Still, he looks rather glum. The gun had given him an aura of confidence--even if it was false confidence.

She reaches into her pocket and hands him a small can. “Here. Keep this with you. I have more at home.”

He narrows his eyes and reads the label. “Pepper spray.”

“It’s legal to carry. Use it and run. Live to spin signs another day.”

He gives that breathless little laugh that she’s come to know is his true laugh. She likes it. 

“This is great. Clown gets pepper spray from girlfriend.” He freezes and stares at her, eyes wide. “I mean from a friend who’s a girl. Not a girlfriend.”

She smiles. Part of her wants to say she’s okay with being considered a girlfriend, but after what just happened with the gun, she thinks it’s better to move slow.

They go for a long walk around her neighborhood before parting ways at his bus stop.

“I’ve had a really nice time this weekend,” Nicole says.

“Me, too.”

“So, I’ll see you next weekend? I’ll meet you right here at this stop?”

“I’ll be here.” He gazes at her, his expression somewhere between sexy and shy. The more time she spends with him the cuter he gets, and the weirder. Maybe that’s part of the attraction. She’s never gone for average guys. 

The bus nears them, and he asks, “Can I kiss your cheek?”

This takes her off-guard. “Sure.”

He quickly touches his warm lips to her face and then pulls back. “I’ll call you?”

“Yes. Please.”

“Bye, Nicole.” He steps onto the bus and takes a seat at the window. He gazes out and waves to her. She waves back and smiles. 

Nicole hasn’t felt this great in years--or this uncertain.

* * *

  
Late the following afternoon, Arthur has another gig at the children’s hospital. It’s one of his favorite places to perform because despite their physical problems, the kids are so enthusiastic. He arrives as Carnival, face painted and dressed in his giant shoes--the damn things still don’t fit right--shirt, vest, and loose pants with patches sewn onto them. His green wig tends to be hot, too. One of these days, when he has the spare cash, he’ll have to buy some new clown stuff, but for now, Carnival deals with the shoes and wig. 

When he joins the kids, a nurse offers him a white coat that he shrugs on over his clown clothes. He makes some silly doctor jokes and passes out some red clown noses. He usually brings extras because some of the kids enjoy wearing them.

For the next hour, he entertains the kids with songs, jokes, and magic tricks. When it’s time for him to go, some of the kids beg him to stay longer. Sometimes he’s not as happy as he looks and just wants the gig to end, but other days, like today, he doesn’t want to leave, either. 

It’s his last gig of the day, so he agrees to stay. When he returns to Ha Ha’s, Hoyt chews him out for extending the gig.

“You had no business doing that, Arthur,” Hoyt tells him. “You don’t do the booking. I do, and I’m not paying you for the extra time you were there.”

Arthur imagines breaking out the pepper spray that’s resting in his pocket and giving Hoyt an eyeful, but he only smiles. “Okay, Hoyt.”

“We’re a business.”

“The kids had fun.”

“Good. Then maybe I won’t get any complaints, but I’m not running a charity program here. No freebees. Got it?”

“Sure, Hoyt.”

“Speaking of charity, that free clinic you went to called today and booked you for a fundraiser there Saturday afternoon.”

Arthur looks surprised. “Really?”

“At least some good came out of you getting your ass kicked. You’re weird, Arthur, but I like you, especially when you bring in customers.”

 _Well I don’t like you, Hoyt. I fucking hate you._ He doesn’t say it, just smiles.

Hoyt dismisses him by turning his attention back to the open newspaper on his desk.

Arthur takes the bus home. 

“Happy!” his mother calls when he steps into the apartment.

“No mail, Mom.”

“I can’t believe Thomas Wayne still hasn’t answered my letters.”

Arthur sighs. What is it with his mother and Thomas Wayne? She sends the guy letter after letter. They’re probably not even reaching him. A busy man like that has no time for a woman who worked for him over thirty years ago.

“Happy!”

“Yeah, Mom.” He tosses a bag with his clown clothes onto the floor. They need to be washed. It’s laundry night, so he’ll spend most of his time in the basement, writing in his journal in between washing, drying, and folding clothes.

“Someone called for you. A girl. Natasha. . .or maybe it was Noreen?”

He walks into the living room, his heart thumping a little faster. “Nicole?”

“Yes. That’s it. What is a girl doing calling you, Happy?”

“I met her a few days ago, Mom. She’s real nice. You’d like her.”

Ignoring him, Penny shifts her gaze to the television. “It’s almost time for Murray. What’s for dinner?”

“I’ll check. No lasagna, right?”

“What’s wrong with lasagna?”

He shakes his head, wishing he was having dinner with Nicole. “Nothing, Mom. I’ll have it for you in a few.”

“Why hasn’t Thomas Wayne answered my letters? Do you think someone is taking them?”

“I told you. He’s probably busy. Maybe he doesn’t even remember you.”

Her expression turns strangely cold. “He remembers.”

Shaking his head, Arthur heats up a frozen mac and cheese dinner. He brings it to her, and they watch Murray together. Penny drifts off in the chair, and he covers her with a blanket. She can stay there until he finishes the laundry. Before he collects it, he calls Nicole.

“Hey,” he says. “My mother said you called.”

“Yeah. I just wanted to say hi. Am I bothering you?”

“No. More like saving my sanity. It’s laundry night.”

“I hate doing laundry.”

“Me too. I’m going to work on my act. I want to get it right before Saturday. Oh, you know what? Clinica Sanando hired me for a charity event on Saturday afternoon. Do you know anything about it?”

“Yeah. Dr. Holt let the staff at Holt Neuro know about it, in case anyone wants to help out or go. It’s a bake sale. I’m bringing brownies. That’s awesome, Arthur. We’ll get to see each other at the clinica, and then it’s our date at Pogo’s.”

He smiles. “Yeah. That’s great.”

“I’ll get to see both your acts. Carnival the Clown and your standup routine.”

“I’m a lucky guy. Nicole?”

“Yes?”

“What do you like to do?”

“Wow. Let’s see. I like to bake and I love walking and jogging.”

Bake. Arthur doesn’t have much of an appetite, and his cooking skills are okay at best. He liked going for a walk with her today, and at least that’s inexpensive, considering his financial situation. 

“The library is nice, too. I love to read.”

“Library,” he murmurs. He could do that. She could read. He could write in his journal. “I wonder if they have any books about standup comedy?”

“I bet they do.”

“We should go on a date there sometime.”

“That’s a good idea.” 

He hears the smile in her voice. Is she laughing at him because going on a date to the library is really a stupid idea, or is she actually happy about it?

“Not many people would like to go on a date at the library. I’m glad I met you, Arthur.”

“You, too. I want to keep talking, but I need to do my laundry. If I don’t wash those clown clothes, no one will hire me for any more gigs.”

She laughs. “You’re too funny.”

He raises an eyebrow. That time he hadn’t _meant_ to be funny, but whatever works. He’ll have to make a note about it in his joke diary. “Thanks. Talk to you tomorrow after work?”

“I’ll be here.”

He hangs up, feeling pretty good about himself. This is going well. 

But is it real? Has all this stuff really happened? 

Yes, it has. His mother told him when he walked in that Nicole had called. Instead of a gun in his pocket, he now has pepper spray. Nicole is real, and she’s his friend. His friend who’s a girl.


	6. Little Creek

At work the next morning, Nicole washes windows in a spacious, elegant waiting room. The television is turned on to a local news channel. Rita steps in. The brown-haired middle-aged woman is nicely dressed in a black and red pants suit. 

“Good morning, Nicole.”

“Hi, Rita. How are you?”

“Oh, I’m my usual cheery self,” she says, deadpan. Both women pause when the newscaster on television says that last night a woman was beaten and raped on the subway. Her attackers were apparently three employees of Wayne Enterprises.

Rita shakes her head. “No news is good news. There’s so much scum in this city.”

“Yeah, and this time, the scum is rich,” Nicole says, and then she nearly kicks herself. Rita is certainly well off, and so are all the doctors at Holt Neuro.

Raising her eyebrows, Rita shrugs. “A rapist is a rapist. Money has nothing to do with it.”

“I guess the assumption is that money can help them get away with it.”

“We’ll see about that. If they did it, then they should be put away. I’d better get back to work.” Rita leaves Nicole to her window washing.

* * *

“Happy, look it’s Thomas Wayne. They’re asking him about that horrible rape last night on the subway,” Penny says.

In the kitchen, Arthur finishes stirring the cream of wheat he’s made her for breakfast. He hasn’t even had a chance to bathe yet, since he overslept a little this morning. Wearing only his pajama bottoms, he hurries to the living room and places her cereal on the coffee table. “Why him?”

“Didn’t you hear? The three men she’s accused work for Thomas Wayne.”

“I’m not surprised,” he mutters, lighting a cigarette and dropping onto the couch to stare at the television. 

Thomas Wayne, looking as arrogant as ever, says, “Any kind of crime like this is terrible, but there is a lot of tension in the city, and a lot of decent men who are falsely accused. Until the trial, Wayne Enterprises will support these three young men. The young woman is the only witness, and while I’m certainly not insinuating that she’s lying, she suffered a severe concussion and her memories about who attacked her might not be reliable. It was late and dark. These three men have worked for Wayne Enterprises for several years and have exemplary records and have never done anything remotely like this. There are lots of people on the Gotham subways, and it could be a case of mistaken identity. Why would promising young men like this assault some poor woman they don’t even know? I suggest the police concentrate on finding the real suspects--the clowns in this city who think they can do whatever they want and are willing to sit back while someone else takes the blame.”

Arthur laughs. He’s such a liar. Such a rich, untouchable liar.

“That’s not funny,” Penny says, glancing at Arthur. “That woman might be mistaken about those young men.”

Arthur knows better than to argue with Penny about her personal god, Thomas Wayne. He leans back on the couch, blowing smoke toward the ceiling and bouncing his legs. All he knows is if anyone attacked Nicole like that, rich or poor, he’d fucking kill them. No pepper spray. He’d bash their fucking heads in.

He finishes his cigarette and heads to the bathroom to bathe and dress. He has a couple of gigs today, and then his weekly appointment with his social worker. He has a lot to tell her this week. Maybe he’ll even tell her about Nicole.

By the time he arrives for his appointment, he’s feeling pretty confidant about everything that’s happened between him and Nicole. He’s also both excited and anxious about performing at Pogo’s this weekend, and he’s proud that the clinica specifically asked for him to perform at their fundraiser. 

When Debra Kane asks him how his week is going, he starts to tell her that until recently, he’s never felt like he’s existed, but she interrupts him with something completely unrelated, so this time he calls her out on not really paying attention to him.

“I said for my whole life, I didn’t know if I even really existed, but I do.”

Again she ignores his comment, this time to tell him that the city’s funds have been cut. He’ll no longer have sessions with her, which isn’t so bad. He never really liked her anyway. Then she tells him that he now has no way to get his medication. He hears nothing else after that. It’s like his entire world has come crashing down.

Without medication, he’ll be committed again. He remembers the lonely white room, his arms bound in a straightjacket. There was no hope. All he could do was bang his head against the fucking wall. Over and over until he didn’t care anymore. He just wanted to get the fuck out of there. Or kill someone. Or kill himself.

He leaves her office for the final time, knowing that he has less than a month’s worth of meds, and then--He nearly throws up just thinking about it. He’s finally started to get his life together. He has a steady job. He has a possible girlfriend, for fuck’s sake! Not a fantasy. Not a daydream while he’s in the bathroom jerking off. A real, touchable, kissable woman.

Maybe he can handle it without the meds. No. Even now there are times when he doesn’t know what to do--what’s real. But he knows that there are possibilities. What had Dr. Sykora said? Other options. Maybe he should ask her about it.

Who is he kidding? Without assistance, there’s no way he can afford his meds on what Hoyt pays him. 

Tonight he climbs the long, long staircase slower than ever. He’s fucking tired, partly from stress and partly because he hardly eats. Finding out that his funds have been cut make him even more nauseous than usual. He lights a cigarette, but halfway up the stairs, he squashes it out. Nicole hates cigarettes. He knows it. Dr. Sykora also told him that they kill his appetite, so maybe quitting is a good idea. 

Quitting only makes sense if he has hope for a better future. Now that he can’t get his meds anymore, he’ll lose Nicole and probably lose his job, too. He lights another cigarette. Maybe lung cancer will get him before starvation. Or maybe he’ll get jumped again and this time he’ll luck out and they’ll kill him.

In his apartment, he goes through the mail and meal ritual with Penny. He wants to call Nicole, but what’s the point? He’s never told her about the reason for his meds, or his social worker. She knows about his journal, but she thinks it’s only for preparing his comedy routine. Maybe he should tell her everything. She’s a good listener. Better than the social worker.

She’s called him first every time they’ve talked. If he doesn’t call her, she might think he’s not interested. 

After he and his mother watch Murray, he takes a bath and pulls on his faded pajama bottoms. Then he picks up the phone in the kitchen and dials Nicole’s number.

“Hello, this is Nicole. I’m not home right now, but if you leave a message after the beep, I’ll call you back as soon as possible.”

 _Shit._ “Uh, Nicole. It’s me, Arthur. I just wanted to--”

“Arthur, hi. I’m here.”

His heart skips a beat. “Hey. How are you?”

“Good. It was a long day. Someone threw up in the waiting room, and that’s never fun to clean up.”

“Yeah, that must suck.”

“How was your day?”

“It was. . .” _Fucking shitty_. “Okay.”

There’s silence for a moment. Finally she says, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” He holds the phone against his shoulder and flicks his lighter, holding the flame under his open palm. 

“You don’t sound okay.”

“It’s just. . .a bad day.”

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

 _Fuck yeah, but I can’t._ “No. I’ll just forget about it.”

“I was thinking more about what you said about going to the library sometime. I think that would be fun. We could go out to lunch, too, if you feel like it.”

“Yeah. Sure.” He’s not talking much and probably boring her, but he’s just not in the mood tonight.

“I. . .I miss you, Arthur.”

“You do?” He puts the lighter down and wraps an arm around himself. This is real. She hasn’t hung up on her end and he’s not just fantasizing that she said that. She’s really there.

“Yeah.”

“I miss you, too.”

“I’m really looking forward to this weekend.”

“Me too. I had a bad day, but talking to you makes me feel better.”

“I’m glad.” Again he hears the smile in her voice and it warms him.

“I’d better go. I have to be at Ha Ha’s early tomorrow.” Another sign spinning gig.

“Okay. Goodnight, Arthur.” Is it his imagination, or is her voice suddenly soft and husky?

“Goodnight, Nicole,” he whispers back before hanging up the phone.

* * *

Arthur can’t believe the weekend is finally here. He can hardly wait to see Nicole again. He’s looking forward to the gig at the clinica, and then he’ll be on stage at Pogo’s for the fist time. The only thing tainting all these great things is knowing that his meds are running out. How is he going to keep everything together? He needs to tell Nicole, but he’s not sure how. She thinks he’s a normal guy, and other than the laughing fits, he’s been able to keep her convinced of it. Once he’s off the meds, though--

“Hey, Artie, are you going to hog that mirror all morning?” Randall asks.

Arthur has taken special care with his face paint this morning. He wants to do a great job at the clinica. He’s practiced some new magic tricks and has them down pat. And he bought extra bags of balloons to twist into different shapes. Flowers are his favorite, and he’s definitely going to make a pink flower for Nicole. She wears a lot of pink, so he guesses it’s her favorite color.

“Sorry, Randall. I’m done.” He rises from the chair and removes his clown clothes from his locker. He changes and checks himself in another mirror before picking up his plaid bag containing his street clothes and his clown accessories--his magic wand that sprouts feather flowers, his balloons, extra noses, and paint for touch-ups. 

He leaves Ha Ha’s and a short time later, he arrives at the clinica. People have already started to gather. Nicole is there, helping place a variety of baked goods on an outside table. She’s talking to a nicely-dressed, brown-haired lady who’s carrying a huge tray of cookies.

“Arthur, come here for a second.” Nicole waves to him. 

Grinning, he weaves through the small crowd that’s gathered. He pauses in front of Nicole. “I thought I was early, but there are lots of people here already.”

“It’s always like that, from what I hear,” the older woman says.

“Rita, this is my friend, Arthur, who I told you about. Arthur, this is Rita. She’s Dr. Holt’s secretary and she basically runs everything at work.”

“And that’s not much of an exaggeration.” Rita offers her hand to Arthur who shakes it. “It’s nice to meet you, Arthur. Nicole talks about you all the time.”

She does? Arthur’s smile broadens. “Nice to meet you.”

“Well, I’m going to meet my husband for lunch. This kind of thing isn’t for me.”

“No, you only brought like fifty dollars worth of cookies,” Nicole says and glances at Arthur. “She tries to act mean, but I know what she’s really like.”

“Don’t let it get around,” Rita says and walks away.

“You told people you work with about me?” he asks.

“Sure. Haven’t you told anyone about me?”

“No. I don’t say much to the guys I work with, except Gary. You’d like Gary.”

“Maybe I’ll meet him someday. Arthur?"

"Yeah?"

"I wasn't going to stick around here today. I was going to drop off the brownies and go, but when you said you'd be here, I wanted to stay. It made me feel more comfortable."

He can't begin to describe how good that makes him feel. "I'm. . .I'm glad, Nicole. I have to go find out where they want me.” He’s about to walk away, but impulsively turns back to her and kisses her cheek. She smiles and even blushes a little. It’s so adorable. For a while, he forgets his problems.

A short time later, he’s mingling outside, performing magic tricks and twisting balloons into various shapes. He can make over two hundred different things with balloons. That’s something he’s proud of. 

Throughout the event, he and Nicole exchange glances. During a break, she brings him a cup of lemonade. It’s good, and he’s thirsty, dancing around in his clown clothes. It’s an unusually warm day for the season, and he needs to touch up his makeup twice due to the heat. This is one of the most fun events he’s ever attended, though. It’s right up there with the children’s hospital.

He stays late again, but this time he doesn’t care. He told Hoyt he won’t be going back to Ha Ha’s afterward because he intends to go straight home to get ready for tonight at Pogo’s.

As the event draws to an end, Dr. Sykora approaches with a smile. “Thank you for staying so long, Arthur. Everyone really enjoyed having you here.”

He leans toward her and whispers, “Between you and me, doctor, next time call me directly for one of these events. I won’t charge you. Hoyt always will.”

“You should get paid. You’re working your butt off here.”

“Well, you were working when you took care of me, but I never got a bill, right?”

She smiles and pats his arm before stepping back inside to see her next patient. 

“Hey, Arthur.” Nicole steps close to him and takes his hand. He blinks, staring into her pretty blue eyes. “I’m going to leave in a few minutes because I have to get ready for tonight.”

Pogo’s! What time is it? He picks up her wrist to glance at her watch. “I’d better go, too. I’ll ride home with you on the bus, if you want.”

“No, my dad is actually picking me up. Can we drop you at home?”

“Will he mind?”

“No. Go get changed. I’ll call him.”

Arthur heads inside to the back room where Dr. Sykora told him he can change clothes. He pulls off his wig and combs back his damp hair. Then he wipes off his face paint, undresses, and stuffs his clothes into his bag. The shirt and vest are sweaty, so he’ll definitely have to wash those again tomorrow. He pulls on a tan shirt and his normal pants and shoes. 

Now that Carnival is gone, he’s back to being Arthur, and worry sets in again. He’s nervous about Pogo’s, but even worse, he’s thinking about his conversation with his former social worker. He had a nice time at today’s event, but without his meds and counseling, will days like this be limited for him? 

The door opens and a tall, athletic man wearing shorts, rope sandals, and a tank top steps in. A beaded necklace rests around his strong neck. 

“Hey, man, sorry. I thought this room was empty.”

“It’s okay,” Arthur says. “I was just leaving.”

“You’re the clown. That was a fun act you had today. You made a lot of people smile.”

“I’m glad.”

The man’s grin fades and he gazes at Arthur with calm hazel eyes. “But I see you’re not smiling now.”

“Sorry.”

“There’s no need to apologize. We all have ups and downs, brother. Something is bothering you. I can tell.”

Arthur’s brow furrows. This guy is weird, even from Arthur’s point of view. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I. . .don’t even know you,” Arthur murmurs, but something in the way this man looks at him is so warm, so understanding that he wants to talk to him.

“I’m Anton Little Creek.” He extends his hand. Arthur shakes it, and Anton continues, “I do maintenance work around the clinica, but I also do spiritual work. Something tells me you can use a little of the latter.”

Arthur gives a wry laugh. “More than a little.”

Smiling gently, Anton holds Arthur’s gaze. “I’m listening.”

Strangely, Arthur finds himself telling Anton about his medication, what it’s for, and that he can no longer get assistance to pay for it. He’s worried about what will happen, if he’ll end up falling apart again, if he’ll ruin everything with Nicole. If he does fall apart, who will take care of his mother?

“First things first.” Anton steps toward Arthur and opens his arms. “Can I hug you?”

This is really weird, but Arthur doesn’t care. He can’t remember the last time someone hugged him, not even Penny.

He steps toward Anton and lets the larger man wrap his arms around him. He feels solid. Real. Closing his eyes, Arthur rests his head against Anton’s shoulder and embraces him. Anton holds him for a moment, waiting until Arthur steps away first.

Arthur’s throat is tight and his eyes are teary, but he laughs. He covers his mouth with his hand and wishes he’d just shut up. Instead, his laughter gets louder.

“Arthur?” Nicole steps into the room, looking concerned.

“He’ll be all right,” Anton says.

“What happened?” she asks. By now she knows that sometimes events trigger his laughing episodes. He’s not just laughing now. He’s laughing and crying and he can’t stop. It’s fucking humiliating, but at some level it also feels good. He’s been holding this in since he found out his assistance was cut.

Now Nicole has her arm around him. He sits on a bench in the middle of the room, and she stays right beside him. It takes him a moment to regain his self control. Then he tells her what he told Anton. She listens, and there’s no missing the emotions that pass over her pretty face. Fear. Sadness. Compassion. Strangest of all, determination.

“There’s got to be some way to make this right.” She glances from Arthur to Anton.

“I agree, sister,” Anton says. “The counseling part we can work out here. I know Dr. Kate recently recruited a psychiatrist who volunteers a few times a week. The medication, I’m not sure.”

“Arthur, listen to me.” Nicole holds his hand tightly. “We’ll find a way to get through this. The city program can’t be the only way to get your meds.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have surrendered the gun. I could have robbed a bank.” He laughs, wiping tears from his face with the back of his hand. Oddly, he thinks that's pretty funny, but Nicole and Anton aren’t laughing.

“Violence is never the best way, brother,” Anton says. He rests a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “There are other answers to this problem. I’m with you. So is Nicole.”

“Hey, what is this, another party?” Dr. Sykora asks, standing in the doorway.

“Not exactly,” Anton says. “However you’re the woman we’re looking for.”

Dr. Sykora raises an eyebrow, but joins them.


	7. Pogo's

Nicole asks her father to wait while Dr. Sykora arranges an appointment for Arthur with the clinica’s psychiatrist, Dr. Mitchell, a new addition to their team. He agrees to see Arthur on Monday afternoon.

A short time later, she and Arthur are riding in the back seat of her father’s car. 

“Hey, I feel like a chauffeur with you two riding back there.” He father laughs.

“Thank you for the ride, Herb,” Arthur says.

“No big deal. Nicole, your mother is going to wonder what took us so long.”

“It’s my fault,” Arthur explains. “I had to talk to one of the doctors about. . .a problem.”

“Like I said. No big deal.” Her dad glances in the rearview mirror at Arthur. “So you’re a party clown.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You must be a pretty funny guy, then.”

“The kids seem to think so. Most of the time.”

“Nicole says you’re trying to be a stand-up comic. I like some of the old comedians. You know like uh, Bob Hope and Jerry Colonna."

Arthur grins. “Oh yeah. They’re funny. I love old movies.”

Nicole studies him with a smile. “I didn’t know that.”

“Old musicals, especially. The black and white ones are the best.”

“Okay. You got good taste in movies. Good,” her dad says. He slows the car and points to a prison-like apartment complex. “Is this it?”

“Yes. It’s an awful building. I know.”

“Hey, it’s a roof over your head. Do you and Nicole want a ride home from Pogo’s tonight?”

“No, Dad,” she says. “We’re going out for dinner after, so we’ll take the bus home.”

“I’ll walk her home,” Arthur says. “I’ll take care of her.”

“Excuse me.” Nicole stares from one to the other like they’ve each sprouted two heads. “Thirty-six-year-old woman here. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

“You’re older than I am?” Arthur looks surprised.

Even her Dad takes another look at him in the rearview mirror.

“How old _are_ you?” she asks.

“Thirty three.”

This shocks her, too. Not that Arthur isn’t good-looking, but she’s guessed he’s around forty at least. Maybe it’s because he’s so thin. He’s had a rough life, and that can add not age exactly, but depth to a person’s face. Somehow it makes him even more attractive to her.

“Hey, as long as you don’t mind being seen with an older woman,” she teases.

He chuckles, staring at her with those soul-stealing eyes. She seriously needs to reel in her emotions, or at least not get caught up in them. Arthur has a lot of problems that are far worse than she’d realized. She wishes she could talk to someone about him--someone who won’t judge, but can offer advice. Maybe she’ll talk to her parents at some point, but she’s afraid they’ll tell her she should stop seeing him. She realizes she needs to be careful. Arthur has flat out told her that he has been hospitalized due to a mental breakdown. He’s told her that his social services program has been cut and he can’t afford the meds he needs to not only function as a contributing member of society, but to keep from endangering himself and possibly others. He’s told her the truth, and it’s up to her whether she wants to keep him in her life. 

She scarcely knows him, but she feels connected to him somehow. Maybe it’s because she knows what it’s like to have a mental issue--something that others can’t see, but still deeply affects how she functions in everyday life. Even now, she still tries to hide her anxiety and phobias. She tells co-workers that she walks and jogs a lot because she enjoys fitness, which is not the complete truth. She tells them that in the city, she doesn’t need a car. Why spend all that money if she doesn’t have to drive anywhere? Another partial truth. There are places she’d like to go at times, but can’t. Every year, there’s a Christmas party at Holt Neuro, but she avoids it, unless she happens to be working that night. It’s not that she doesn’t like her co-workers, but social situations aren’t her idea of fun. She’ll stand there all night, too tense to eat or drink, and count the minutes until she’s alone again and can finally relax. 

She might not have a mental illness exactly, at least not as severe as Arthur, but she understands what he’s going through. Worst of all, he’s found that medication and counseling help him, but that help is being taken away from him. They’re cutting funds to someone who possibly won’t survive without the program. That’s so fucking unfair. 

It seems like every other night jackasses like Thomas Wayne are on TV mouthing off about the underprivileged like they’re criminals or irritating children who just want to take from society. Maybe some people are like that, but others are just trying to make it. They want help. They hold jobs--maybe not office jobs at Wayne Enterprises, but when nice buildings like that are kept clean or when business people stop for coffee before work, who the fuck do they think is cleaning up and filling their orders? Regular people who are trying to pay their bills and often falling short, that's who.

“Nicole, are you okay?” Arthur asks softly.

She turns to him and forces a smile. “I’m fine. Just daydreaming.”

He stares at her with an odd expression--something between understanding and curiosity. 

The car stops and Arthur smiles at her. “See you in a couple of hours.”

“Okay.” 

He looks like he might kiss her cheek again, but his gaze slants toward her father and he just reaches for his plaid bag. Impulsively, Nicole grasps his forearm, leans toward him and kisses his temple. He stares at her again, his pupils dilated. She wonders if hers are, too. Touching and kissing him, even in a friendly way, turns her on more than she wants to admit. He steps away and heads for the building, turning to wave at her before her father drives away.

“He seems like a nice guy,” her father says.

“He is.” Nicole wonders how long he’ll stay that way, though, if he can’t get his meds. She’s heard about people who go off their meds and suffer horrible mood swings. She’s even seen a few things at Holt Neuro that still haunt her thoughts. Most of the people there have brain injuries or tumors. Dr. Holt, who owns the practice, is a brilliant neurosurgeon, but he has psychiatrists on staff as well. The clientele at Holt Neuro is usually rich, but physical and mental illnesses aren’t affected by dollar signs--only the treatment. Dr. Holt’s patients get the best care in the world because they can pay for it, while someone like Arthur scrapes by and is now cut off from what little help he’s been offered. 

“Kind of odd, though, isn’t he?” her father says.

“Well, who’s normal, really?”

He shrugs and keeps driving in silence. Once home, Nicole undresses, showers, and lets her hair dry naturally while she applies makeup. She doesn’t have many dress-up clothes, because she rarely has an evening out, other than a run to the store or sometimes a movie. She chooses her outfit--a black pants suit with a red shirt underneath. Normally, she wears flats or sneakers, but she has black pumps that she bought to wear with this outfit. She shifts her wallet and a tube of red lipstick into a small, black beaded purse. 

By now she’s jittery from the thought of stepping into Pogo’s. Her stomach churns. Sometimes her anxiety causes her to run to the bathroom. It would be awful if she’s late meeting Arthur due to a bought of diarrhea. If they miss the bus, he’ll lose his spot at Pogo’s. She takes a few calming breaths and her stomach settles. To be safe, she take a dose of that pink medicine, just in case. She makes a face and stuffs a piece of peppermint candy in her mouth to get rid of the mint-medicine taste.

She hurries downstairs and calls goodbye to her parents. Her mother catches her before she leaves.

“Your father said your friend Arthur seems nice.”

“He is.”

“I’d like to meet him sometime.”

Truthfully, she’d like to introduce him, but things are so uncertain right now that she’s not sure it’s a good idea. 

“I’ll bring him home sometime,” she says.

“Have fun, and be careful.”

“I will. If we’re later than eleven, I’ll call.”

That should give them plenty of time for dinner after Pogo’s. It’s a short walk to the bus stop, and dusk has just started falling when she arrives. Arthur is waiting for her. She’s never seen him in anything except his clown outfit and casual clothes. He’s wearing a red suit with a vest beneath. His white shirt is open at the neck. The clothes look great on him. Somehow the cut of the suit complements his thin frame. His dark, longish hair is freshly washed and combed back. His blue-green eyes are alive with excitement. At least that forlorn look from earlier is gone. She was a little worried to leave him alone after how upset he’d been at the clinica. His mother was home, but from what he’s told her about Penny Fleck, she’s not very supportive. It’s not her fault that she’s sick, but Arthur struggles to take care of himself. Pretending that there’s nothing wrong for her sake can’t be good for his emotional health.

“Wow. You look beautiful,” he says, his gaze raking her.

She grins. “Thank you. You look very handsome.”

With a sheepish expression, he glances down at his nervously twisting hands, but his smile and the expression in his eyes when he looks up at her reveals how much he enjoys the compliment. 

They don’t have time to say much else before the bus arrives. Once aboard, Arthur diverts his attention to his joke diary. She glances at it discreetly a few times, and more warning signals go off in her head when she catches glimpses of half-naked women pasted onto some of the pages, a few of them spliced with other pictures to create sexually strange images.

 _You’re not overreacting this time, Nicole,_ she tells herself. _Those pictures are weird, so he’s probably weird. Think about what you’re doing._

She also reminds herself that if she kept a diary and someone looked at it, they’d probably commit her to Arkham. She’s often said she wouldn’t have blamed her parents if they had her put way for a while when she was a troublesome teen. Even now, she has some pretty dark thoughts sometimes, but in her younger days, she occasionally had violent outbursts. She never hurt anyone, but she’s kicked a few doors and broken some furniture in her time. Sometimes she gets so frustrated with everyone and everything. Now she keeps a punching bag in her attic. Again, she enjoys working out, but it’s also a non-destructive way for her to relieve tension. 

“We’re almost there.” She nudges Arthur who looks up, blinking like he’s waking from sleep. There’s a faint smile on his lips.

The bus stops and they get off and walk the short distance to Pogo’s. Inside, he escorts her to a corner table. It’s not far from the stage, but off to the side so that she’s not stuck in the middle of the crowded room.

“You’re okay, right?” he asks. She’s told him enough times that she’s nervous in public settings. He’s asking to be nice, but it’s obvious that he’s super distracted, and she doesn’t blame him.

“I’m fine. Go do what you need to.”

“Thanks for being here.” He kisses her cheek and hurries off. 

The truth is, Nicole doesn’t care for stand-up comedy. Some comedians make her laugh, but she doesn’t like acts that try to put audience members on the spot. She hopes that doesn’t happen tonight. If one of these guys tries to pull her into his dumb-ass performance, she’ll walk the fuck out. 

_No. You can’t do that to Arthur. He really wants you here._ She calms herself. This table is off to the side. Most likely any jokers looking to rag on an audience member will pick someone sitting in front, so that everyone can laugh at them.

The first few comedians are okay. Lots of sex and ethnic jokes. Typical stuff. When the announcer welcomes Arthur, her heartbeat quickens and her stomach rolls again. She almost feels like she’s the one going on stage. Arthur probably isn’t even as nervous. He performs as a clown every day and she’s seen how cute and confident he is as Carnival. No doubt he’ll be just as great at stand-up comedy.

He steps onto the stage and she can’t help smiling. He looks really adorable in the suit, but when he opens his mouth, everything goes wrong. He greets the audience in a soft little voice, sounding as nervous as Nicole feels during a full-blown anxiety attack.

Then he starts to laugh.

She tenses even more. He’s having an episode right now, but the audience doesn’t know that. There are a few snickers and she hears several horrible comments about him being a loser.

Nicole’s smile fades as Arthur stumbles over his not-so-funny jokes. He can hardly get the words out through his laughter. Then he glances in her direction. She forces a smile. Their gazes lock for a moment, and he finally controls himself enough to tell a few more bad jokes to an unenthusiastic audience. 

A guy at a nearby table shouts, “Get that loser off. I came here to listen to someone funny.”

“What is this?” someone else adds. “He’s a joke with no punchline.”

Nicole is furious. She longs to use any skills she’s picked up from hitting the punching bag to whale on these jerks. She reminds herself that Arthur chose to get up on the stage, but she had no idea he was so unprepared--that his act is so bad, so unlike the Arthur she knows. It’s like he’s either regurgitating lousy sex jokes that he’s heard from other comedians, or talking about stuff that makes no sense to anyone else. 

At the moment, he doesn’t seem to know or care. Since their gazes met, he’s been in his own world, laughing authentically at his own jokes. There is something oddly funny about it. His facial expressions and the change in his voice might be amusing with a different act. Every now and then, a few people chuckle genuinely. 

Finally his time is up, and he blows Nicole a kiss before striding off the stage.

Moments later, he joins Nicole at their table, dragging his chair so close to hers that their bodies touch. He sits, still wearing an eerie grin, and runs a hand through his damp hair. His leg, pressing against hers, bounces up and down. She places a hand on his knee and he stills instantly, his glittering gaze on hers.

“I did it,” he says.

She nods, wondering if she looks as sympathetic as she feels. She hopes not. Something tells her that if he thinks she pities him right now, he’ll feel bad. It’s a little strange, watching him go from terribly depressed at the clinica to almost giddy with happiness at this failed attempt at stand-up comedy. He told her and Anton about his mental issues, so she guesses this might be part of it. It’s a little frightening to realize that Arthur’s reality and everyone else’s apparently don’t always match up.

“Some people seemed to like it,” he whispers. 

Nicole glances around. A few people stare at them. Some whisper and point. They laugh, and this time she knows they’re not laughing at her. They’re laughing at Arthur, and not in a way he’d appreciate. He doesn’t seem to notice until he follows her gaze.

Reality seems to smack him in the face, and his smile fades. “Can we go now?”

“Sure.” She reaches for her purse.

He walks out so quickly that Nicole practically jogs to keep up with him.

“Hey, maybe I should have worn my running clothes.”

He slows immediately. “Sorry. I was terrible, wasn’t I?”

“No.” She furrows her brow, trying to look convincing. “You weren’t terrible. It’s your first time. All you need is a little practice.”

“That’s a nice way of saying I’m terrible.”

“Arthur, listen to me. You were not terrible. Do you want my real opinion?”

He looks dejected and lights a cigarette. She wishes he wouldn’t, especially now that she knows about all the medication he takes. Hardly eating. Chain smoking. That can’t be a good mix with all those prescription drugs.

Finally he says, “Yeah. I want your thoughts.”

“Good, but can we talk about it over dinner? I’m starving.” She’s not really hungry, but if _she_ eats, maybe _he’ll_ eat. Physically, they both must be hungry, but between her anxiety and his medication, they’re convinced they don’t want food.

He nods and stomps out his cigarette on their way to a nearby diner. It’s bright in there, and somehow his green eyes and red suit stand out even more. He’s actually a striking person, but no one notices because he’s usually so slouched and introverted, except when he’s Carnival.

A waitress takes their order and fills their water glasses. Arthur drains half of his, but he’s still not looking at her. His gaze focuses on the table setting in front of him. He fiddles with his fork, pushing his fingertip against the prongs.

“Do you still want to hear--”

“Yes, I want to know what you think,” he interrupts, his voice clipped.

“You weren’t yourself,” she says flatly. If he’s going to be miffed, she can be, too.

His gaze finally meets hers. He knits his dark, heavy eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you looked like you were imitating those other jerks who came out before you. I haven’t known you long, Arthur, but I already know you’re unique. That’s something I understand. Those weren’t all your jokes. They were someone else’s idea of comedy. The ones that were really yours, toward the end, like the one about the garbage collector having hallucinations--”

He laughs--his genuine laugh. “Oh yeah.”

“That was funny. Sick, but funny. And it was _you_.”

“Only a few people laughed.”

“But they really thought it was funny. That’s what I’m saying. It’s like when you’re Carnival. You’re really cute and funny.”

His smile fades and he rolls his eyes. “But I’m talking to little kids.”

“They still think you’re funny.”

“I like being a clown, and I like making kids laugh, but my whole life, I’ve dreamed about making grown-up people laugh. I thought that if I work hard enough, maybe someday I’ll be famous enough to get on the Murray Franklin Show. He’s the best stand-up comic ever.”

Nicole wrinkles her nose.

“You don’t like him?”

“I think he’s kind of a jerk. I don’t like the way he makes fun of everybody all the time.”

Arthur lowers his gaze. “I guess. The people on his show don’t seem to mind, though. They play along.”

“Well, that’s their choice, right? I’m saying you don’t have to be that kind of comedian. You don’t have to be like those boring jerks at Pogo’s, relying on tried and true jokes about women’s body parts or stereotypes about ethnic groups. You don’t have to be like Murray Franklin, either.”

“What should I be, then? A dumb clown dancing around and talking about garbage men and hallucinations? Maybe I can do knock knock jokes about the underprivileged, as Thomas Wayne likes to call us.” Something in the way he says Thomas Wayne signals that he hates the guy. Nicole understands that. Wayne is running for mayor, but he doesn’t care about the issues facing lower and middle class people who make up a majority of Gotham.

“I don’t know, Arthur. I’m just telling you what I think. You asked.”

“I know. It’s not you, Nicole.” He shakes his head. “I’m sorry if I’m taking this out on you. I flopped. It’s not the first time.”

“And I hope it’s not the last.”

“What?” He stares at her, torn between shock and deep hurt.

“I didn’t mean it like that!” She closes her eyes for a second and shakes her head. “That came out totally wrong. I mean I hope it’s not the last time you’ll try comedy. I really, really think you should keep working on material and try again another time.”

“After making a fool of myself? You saw what happened to me. I couldn’t stop laughing. They thought I was doing it on purpose.”

“Yeah, you had an episode, but you stuck with it. You kept going, and toward the end I saw that you really have some talent. Arthur, I wouldn’t even have the guts to get on stage like that at all. If I had to make a living being a clown, I’d starve.”

He gives a little snort of laughter. “No you wouldn’t.”

“Yes. I would. If you weren’t expecting me at the club tonight, I wouldn’t have even walked out my door, okay? Do you get that? So your act didn’t go exactly as planned. Big fucking deal. It’s not like you’re on a time schedule to become a comedian.”

The hopeful expression that had crept into his eyes fades. “Maybe I am. I only have a month’s worth of meds left, remember? After that--”

“I’m still thinking about that.”

The waitress approaches with two plates. “Two mac and cheese.” She places one in front of Arthur and the other in front of Nicole. “Can I get you guys anything else?”

Arthur glances at Nicole in question. She turns to the waitress. “No thank you. This is fine.”

The sight and smell of the hot, cheesy meal stokes Nicole’s appetite. Now that the nerve-wracking part of the evening is over, she can relax. Normally, she can’t relax around someone else, especially someone new, but she’s oddly comfortable with Arthur. It’s only when she thinks about all his problems and incidents like the one with the gun, that she questions whether she’s doing the right thing.

She eats. He picks up his fork and toys with the mac and cheese.

“It’s good,” she says. “It’s real mac and cheese. Not the boxed stuff.”

“That’s usually what I make. The boxed stuff, or frozen dinners for my mother.”

“Is someone helping her tonight?”

“I made her dinner before I left. She’s okay alone for a while. It’s not like she can’t walk or get something to eat or drink on her own. She’s just. . .it’s hard to explain. All her life she’s been kind of. . .delicate, I guess.”

“Oh. How about your dad?”

“I never knew him.” He meets her gaze. “Can we talk about something else?”

“Yeah. Are you going to at least try some of that?”

He takes a bite and he looks a little surprised, but in a good way. He continues eating.

After dinner, they catch the bus. She almost tells him that he doesn’t have to walk her home, but for some reason she wants him too. She’s having a nice time with him, and doesn’t want the evening to end.

It’s around ten o’clock when they reach her front door.

“Nicole, can I see you again next Saturday?”

She smiles. “I was hoping you’d ask.”

He kisses her cheek, but this time it’s not a little peck. His warm lips linger, and Nicole’s heartbeat quickens. He’s going to kiss her mouth. She can sense it, and God help her, she’s ready.

He trails his lips along her jaw and then he takes her face in his hands. His long, dark lashes lower over his smoldering eyes. Nicole moistens her lips and tilts her face closer to his. Closing his eyes, Arthur covers her mouth in a kiss. 

It’s been a long time since Nicole has kissed anyone. Truth be told, her past experiences weren’t very good. She finds kissing a little disgusting and unsanitary. The latter is probably her phobias talking, or maybe it’s just because no one has ever made her long for a kiss--until now. His mouth is warm, a little moist. He’s very gentle at first, as if he’s not quite sure if she’ll accept him. At least he’s hardly smoked tonight. Just a few puffs from that one cigarette. She wonders if it’s for her sake, now that he knows she’s allergic. 

It’s not so much his mouth that she enjoys feeling--it’s nice, of course, but it’s the sensation of his body against hers. He’s just a few inches taller than her and ultra thin, but he’s warm. Hard. Real. She slides her hands up his back, feeling the ridge of his spine even through his jacket, vest, and shirt. 

After a moment, he breaks the kiss and they stare at each other. 

“You smell nice,” she says softly. “Nice cologne.”

“Thanks. I like yours, too.”

“Do you want to come in for a while?” she asks.

He nods, smiling faintly. His confidence is back and she can almost see his red Carnival lips and the blue diamonds around his eyes. He’s comfortable as the clown. Radiant, almost. If the clown had been on stage at Pogo’s tonight, things would have been different. 

She unlocks the door and they step into the house--to find her parents wide awake and watching television in the living room directly near the foyer.

“Hi, Mom. Dad.” She forces a smile. She’d hoped to avoid this tonight, but despite how she felt earlier, maybe it’s better if they both meet Arthur sooner than later. She takes his hand and their fingers interlace as she closes the door and locks it. She tugs him into the living room. “Mom, this is Arthur Fleck.”


	8. A Side Hustle

Her mother’s gaze lingers on Arthur. Nicole knows her mother well enough to realize she’s assessing everything about him, and making some intuitive guesses. Most will probably be right, and that makes Nicole a little uncomfortable.

Her mother stands and offers him her hand, which he shakes. “Nice to meet you, Mrs.--”

“You can call me Edna. Would you like something to drink?”

“How about a beer?” Her father asks, raising his own bottle. Her father isn’t a heavy drinker, but he keeps a few beers in the fridge because he likes one after dinner every now and then.

“No thank you. I don’t really drink,” Arthur says, his fingers tightening on Nicole’s.

“Teetotaler, huh?” her father says.

“Well, I’m on some medications that don’t mix with well with alcohol. Or at least I was,” he says the last part a bit softer.

Now that he’s brought it up. . .

“Speaking of medication, funding has been cut for a lot of people,” Nicole says. “Do you guys have any ideas about where or how to get prescription meds at a discount or something like that?”

Her father chuckles. “Discounted prescriptions. Right.”

Nicole’s mother is a bit more perceptive. She glances at Arthur. “Why? Do you get your medication through a social services program?”

His expression is tight and he shoots Nicole a part angry, part embarrassed look. “Thanks for bringing that up right now.”

“I’m sorry. I just haven’t been able to think of a way to help, and thought they might know something--”

“Can’t afford the meds, huh?” her father says. “I get it. If we didn’t have insurance, forget it. I’d probably be dead six times over.”

“It’s true.” Nicole’s mother nods. “The price of medical care in general is outrageous. Now, you’re a party clown, right, Arthur? Nicole tells us you work for a company. They don’t offer insurance?”

He scoffs. “I’m lucky they offer a paycheck that covers rent.”

“Hmm.” Her mother’s brow furrows. “That’s hard.”

“How much do the meds cost?” her father asks. “I mean, you don’t have to tell me, but figure it out and maybe you can find a side hustle that covers at least some of the cost. I mean, can’t you rent yourself out as a clown? Do you need to work through a company?”

“That’s a good idea,” Nicole says. “Arthur, you’ve been a clown for a few years, and I’ve seen you. You’re really good. Why not try working for yourself?”

“I. . .” He laughs a little and shakes his head. “Nicole, what do I know about running a business?”

“Give him some advice, Nicole,” her father says, taking a swig of beer. “You paid all that money for business college. Might as well put it to use.”

“Wait a second, I haven’t even got my degree yet.”

Her mother raises an eyebrow. “Almost, though. You said if you finish this class and one more, you’ll have your degree. I know you like working for Holt Neuro, but maybe Dad’s right. You must have some advice for Arthur, if he wants to go into business for himself.”

Momentary panic flashes across Arthur’s eyes. “I don’t know if I can do that.”

“How much does your boss make for your act versus what he pays you?” Dad continues. “It might be worth giving it a shot on your own.”

Nicole meets Arthur’s gaze. “He might be right. Even if it’s just a few jobs on the side.”

“Hoyt would fire me for sure if he knows I’m moonlighting.”

“He doesn’t have to know.”

Arthur looks thoughtful, and then he smiles. “I could try it. I’ll call the pharmacy tomorrow to find out how much everything is without insurance.”

“Maybe you should wait until you see the new doctor on Monday. He might adjust your medicine,” Nicole says.

“Good idea.”

“Mom, Dad, we’re going upstairs for a while. Come on, Arthur.” Nicole tugs his hand.

“Goodnight,” her mother calls, staring at them as they walk to her apartment. Nicole is sure she’ll hear her mother’s thoughts on Arthur later.

There’s a door at the top of the stairs, separating her part of the house from her parents’ area. She has a living room, a small kitchen, a bathroom, bedroom, and a spare room that she uses for storage. Her place is neat enough, but she’s not a fanatical housekeeper, at least not at home. She saves most of her pickiness for work. She tidied up that morning, unsure of when she’d finally decide to have Arthur over.

She bought her couch at a thrift store across town. It’s black and white cloth, in excellent condition. She cleaned it all thoroughly when she brought it home last year to replace her grandparents’ old couch. She has a coffee table with a few library books on it, a television and bookshelves filled with her personal collection of books and VCR tapes. Arthur walks over and looks at the titles.

“Wow. You’re into sci-fi. And horror comedies.” He turns to her with a grin. “Not to many people like that. Blood and guts with laughs. I think it’s pretty funny, though.”

“Me too. I like musicals, too, but I don’t own many.”

“I have some. We should do that sometime. Watch movies.”

“Sounds good to me. We could make popcorn. I love popping it on the stove.”

“With butter.”

“Yes. Definitely butter.” She approaches and looks at him. “You know, I’m sorry if I upset you by bringing up your medication to my parents.”

“It’s all right. Your father had a good idea. I’m just not sure I can pull it off.”

“Why not? If you want me to help you with the business side--I don’t have any practical experience, but I am getting my degree, and I’m really good with accounting.”

“Why are you a housekeeper?” He looks perplexed. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that.”

“I told you about my nerves, but it’s more than that. My entire life I’ve struggled with anxiety and panic attacks. You’ve probably noticed. I can usually cover it up pretty well, until someone really gets to know me.”

His eyes widen and he takes her hands in his. “I know exactly what you mean. I wrote that in my--All right. You probably saw on the bus that my joke diary isn’t just that. It’s a journal. My social worker told me to keep it, and it’s a good idea. Until I met you, it was the only friend I had, really.”

“Arthur--”

“No, I’m not asking you to feel sorry for me. I’m just telling you about it. The other night, I wrote ‘the worst part about having mental illness is that people expect you to behave as if you don’t.’ It was supposed to be a joke, but it’s true, isn’t it? It’s easier for people to deal if you don’t make them uncomfortable.”

“Yeah. I guess so.”

And that’s why she’s been contemplating whether she should continue a relationship with him. She knows he has problems. She knows there will be ups and downs--possibly really bad times. Is she prepared to deal with his problems along with her anxiety issues? In some ways she might be the right person to deal with him, because she really does get what he’s saying, but at the same time, what if she goes into panic or depression at the same time he’s sinking, too? Will they do each other more harm than good?

She feels guilty even thinking this way, but it’s the facts and if she plans to keep seeing Arthur, she has to deal with it. Then she realizes that telling him the truth about her issues is also the right thing to do. There are times when she is really hard to live with, times when she locks herself in her room and doesn’t climb out of bed. Times when she needs to go for a run alone or punch a boxing bag instead of possibly punching someone in the face.

“You’ve been more than honest with me, Arthur, so I’m telling you. I’m anxious about almost every kind of social event you can think of. Sometimes I have to start the night before to talk myself into going to work the next morning. I’m phobic about driving a car, that’s why I walk, and I rarely take the bus or train because public transportation gives me anxiety, too.”

“Yeah.” He smiles and touches her cheek. “I kind of got that. Maybe we can help each other?” He looks almost afraid of her response.

“I can be nasty sometimes. When I’m really anxious, I get short-tempered.”

“When I’m off my meds, I’m in a straightjacket. Your turn.”

She laughs, and then she stifles it, feeling terrible that his choice of words struck her funny. Then she sees the shimmer in his eyes and the grin on his lips. 

“It’s okay. I wanted to make you laugh, even though, I really have been in a straightjacket.”

“Yeah, but you’re not now. If it happens again, we’ll deal with it.”

His smile fades and he sighs, lowering his gaze. “I want to believe you. It’s a lot to ask, though.”

“We’ll take it one day at a time. This week, I’ll look into what it takes to run a company like Ha Ha’s. In the meantime, maybe my dad is right about you just getting a few side gigs for cash only, to pay for your meds. I have some money saved, too.”

“No way.” He takes a step back.

“Only if you need it, if you can’t get enough cash before this month’s supply runs out.”

“No. I’ll get the money somehow. It can’t be that bad, to find gigs on my own. Maybe I can get some cards made up or something like that.”

“Good idea. I’ll ask around, too. Lots of people I work with at Holt Neuro have young kids. If they need a party clown, I’ll let them know where they can find the best one in Gotham.”

He smiles and leans in for a kiss. It feels just as good as before. Better even, because they’ve already done it. She likes how he feels. How he smells and tastes. Sliding her arms around his neck, she presses closer to him. He wraps her in a snug embrace, his kiss more demanding.

A soft sound escapes Nicole’s throat, just as something hard pushes against her. It’s been a really long time since she’s felt something like this. It’s both exciting and little frightening. Everything is still so new and uncertain between them. 

He backs toward the couch and drops onto it, pulling Nicole with him. He’s skinny, but he has a wiry strength that surprises her. Cupping the back of her head, he kisses her again. Nicole straddles him, and that wonderful hardness presses where she’s soft and tingling. 

Closing her eyes, she slides her hands under his jacket and over his vest. His heart beats strong and fast against her palms. 

When the kiss breaks, they’re both a little breathless. His eyes are dark--filled with passion. She feels it, too, but they can’t do this. Not now. She desires him, but she’s definitely not ready for anything more than this. They don’t even have protection. Maybe she’ll buy condoms tomorrow, just in case.

He kisses her again, deeper this time. There’s something aggressive in his kiss, something wild and thrilling that makes her want to feel even more of him.

“Arthur.” She pulls back a bit, breathing heavily.

He gazes at her with those lovely blue-green eyes fringed by thick, dark lashes. “This feels good.”

“Yeah, I know.” She tries to tug away, but he holds her there, his hands on her waist and a smile on his lips--it’s not Carnival’s smile, though. It’s sort of like that eerie grin he wore after his spot at Pogo’s. The strange thing is, part of her likes that smile and the expression that accompanies it, like he’s a man who knows what he wants and is going to take it.

Hell no. He can’t take this. Not now. Probably in the future, but not now.

“Arthur, this is really nice, but it’s too soon for me.”

“Oh.” He loosens his grip on her to gently caress her back instead. He’s still smiling, though, but she doesn’t feel as uneasy as a moment ago. “That’s okay. Do you want me to leave?”

“You don’t have to, unless you want to, but I can’t. . .you know. I think we should know each other a little better and then at least have condoms or something.”

“You’re right.”

She moves off his lap to sit beside him. He takes off his jacket and drapes it over the back of the couch. Then he slides an arm around her and she rests her head against his shoulder. After a moment, she gets up to turn on the television and changes channels until she finds an old black and white movie. _Some Like it Hot._ Maybe that’s not a wise choice at the moment. Oh well. At least it’s funny. She snuggles against him and smiles. This is really nice. It’s been a while since she’s watched TV with anyone except her family.

Nicole isn’t sure when she drifts off, but when she wakes, Arthur is gone. She’s lying on the couch, covered in a blanket that usually rests at the foot of her bed. There’s a note on the coffee table, written on a torn out page from Arthur’s journal.

_Good nite, Nicole. I ll call you, or you call me when-ever you want. Thanks for coming too my performence to-nite. Luv, Arthur._

She smiles, running her fingertip over the note. He really is a sweet guy.

Still, her paranoia kicks in and she does a thorough check of her apartment, just to make sure he’s really gone. Then she checks her parents’ place as well.

“Nicole?” 

“Ahh!!” she screams at the unexpected sound of her mother’s voice.

“What are you doing down here?” her mother asks.

“I woke up and Arthur was gone. I just wanted to--”

“He said goodbye to us before he left. Your father and I were still watching TV.”

“What do you think of him?” Nicole is almost afraid to ask, but she has to know.

“I like him, but he’s strange. Come here and sit down. Want some hot milk?”

“No thanks. Tea maybe.”

While Nicole’s mother heats the milk, Nicole puts on water for tea.

“All right, mom. Lay it on me.”

“He seems to have a lot of problems.”

“So do I.”

“Not dangerous problems. What kind of medicine is he on? Is it for something physical?”

“He has a personality disorder that is controlled by counseling and medication.”

Her mother sighs. “I had a feeling it was something like that. What if he’s dangerous?”

“Anybody can flip out, mom.”

“Yeah, but a guy like that has more of a chance. I like him. I do, but what do you really know about him?”

“I’m trying to find out more.”

“If you think you can’t do better than someone like him--”

Her mother means well, but her comment irks Nicole. “What makes you think he’s not as good as anyone else?”

“I didn’t say he’s not good, but he’s a thirty-three-year-old party clown who can’t even afford health insurance.”

“What if Dad is right about him starting his own business?”

“Do you think someone like him can handle it?”

“You sound just like Arthur. He thinks he can’t do it, and so do you.”

“If he thinks he can’t do it, then maybe he can’t.”

“Maybe he just needs help. He says he’s not good with the business end of it, but if you’ve ever seen him perform, he’s really good.”

“How much can a party clown hope to make? Realistically?”

“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out. His boss Hoyt has makes a living doing it, and employing other clowns.”

“He owns a business.”

“Maybe Arthur and I can, too.”

Her mother narrows her eyes at her. “You’re really thinking about doing this with some guy you just met who probably belongs in Arkham, for all you know.”

Nicole pauses, trying to control her temper. If her mother only knew that Arthur had been committed before.

“Your father says he lives in that dilapidated project across town.”

“Not everyone lives at Wayne Manor, mom,” she says bitterly. “Neither do we, if you haven’t noticed.”

“Don’t compare us to people who live in that project.”

“Arthur works. He pays his bills, and he takes care of his mother despite all his personal problems. Just because he’s not well off and educated doesn’t mean he’s worthless. Nobody seems to realize that. It’s just like the people who decided to cut his funding. They think people like him are so worthless that they’re taking away their meds, not giving a shit what will happen to them.”

“I didn’t say he’s worthless and I think it’s terrible that they’ve cut off his medication. That’s another thing. If he goes cold turkey, he’s going to have some serious side effects.”

“Then we’re going to have to find a way to make sure he doesn’t go cold turkey, and so far Dad’s idea is the best. Who knows? Maybe this will be good for me, too. Let’s face it, I’ll never force myself to leave Holt Neuro, but maybe starting a business from home will work for me, too.”

Her mother sighs. “All right. Maybe that’s possible.”

“I’m going to try. This week I’m going to research how much clowns earn and make a plan to start a small business. Find out the cost of everything, including Arthur’s medication, and see what we can do.”

“He’s good with this?”

“I think so.”

“You’d better be sure because you might be able to do the business end, but you don’t know anything about being a clown.”

“He’s got that covered. For sure.”

“All right. If your mind is made up, you know your dad and I are behind you.”

“Just do one thing for me.”

“What?”

“Don’t ever tell Arthur what you just told me about his mental issues, where he lives, or any of that.”

Looking offended, her mother scoffs, “Do you think I’m stupid? I’m not going to insult the man. I just want to make sure you’re looking at this situation clearly.”

It’s clear as mud, but she can’t tell her mother that.

“Thanks, mom. I know you’re looking out for me, but I’m a grown woman.”

“I know, but you would tell me the same thing.”

Nicole can’t argue with that, but she’s already made up her mind to take a chance on Arthur. 


	9. The Father of a Loser Like Me

Arthur steps quietly into his house. Penny should be asleep by now, but Arthur isn’t ready for bed. He’s still buzzed from the unbelievable day he had. First the gig at the clinica and his strange but cleansing talk with Anton. Then his performance at Pogo’s that hadn’t gone exactly as planned, and after that a magical evening with Nicole. In his entire life, no woman has ever treated him like she does. She makes him feel good in ways he’s never imagined, only dreamed about.

The sound of the TV filters softly from the living room. After hanging up his jacket, Arthur goes to turn it off, but leaves it instead. It’s the end of the Murray Franklin Show. His mother is watching it on tape. _That’s Life_ plays in the background and he lip syncs to it, dancing toward Penny who has fallen asleep in a nearby chair. He gently pats her cheek to wake her. On his way to put her to bed, they dance for a while.

“What’s wrong with you, Arthur?” she says when he twirls her around the room. “You smell like cologne. . .and is that perfume?”

“I told you I had a big date with Nicole.”

“Who?”

“You know about her, Mom. You’ve talked to her on the phone.”

“Oh. Don’t forget to mail my letter tomorrow.”

He dances her to her room and once she’s settled, he goes back to the living room to get ready for bed. Glancing at the couch, all he can think about is Nicole and how they’d kissed on her couch. She’d looked so cute sleeping there. He’d hated to leave her, but he had to get home and she hadn’t invited him to spend the night. Maybe someday? He can hope.

Penny’s letter rests on the coffee table. It’s addressed to Thomas Wayne. Again.

Arthur’s curiosity gets the better of him. He picks up the letter and hesitates just for a moment before opening it. He’s been mailing these over and over, but he knows Thomas Wayne probably isn’t reading them. Why is his mother so obsessed with her old employer?

His stomach clenches and his heart pounds. In the letter, Penny begs for Thomas Wayne to help her and his son. His fucking son? Arthur is Thomas Wayne’s son? That can’t be, but why would his mother make a fool of herself over and over, sending so many letters like this, if it's not true?

Anger coils inside him. Thomas Wayne is his rich father--a man who can afford anything he wants, while his illegitimate son is terrified because he’s not sure if he’ll be able to pay for medication that keeps him sane?

He storms into his mother’s room and shouts for her to wake up. She jumps out of bed and runs from him, locking herself in the bathroom. She’s afraid of him--of his temper. It’s not the first time. He’s not completely sure about everything that led to him being committed, but he recalls some of the sensations--anger. Lots of anger. Hatred of everyone, including himself.

He paces around the apartment, forcing himself to calm down. He can reason with himself, at least for now. 

“Is this real?” he asks his mother, and he’s almost afraid of the answer.

* * *

In the morning, Nicole calls Arthur and asks to meet him for lunch. He’s so upset about Penny’s revelation last night, that he almost says no, but he really wants to talk to someone about it. Penny is still upset with him, and he doesn’t want to be around her right now, either.

Still, she complains when he says he’s going to meet Nicole for lunch.

“She called you again? Why is she calling you, Happy?”

“Maybe because she likes me and we have fun together.”

“She must be a very strange girl. You’re a good boy, Happy, but you’re not exactly Clark Gable, and you’re a clown. What does she see in a clown?”

Arthur slams the apartment door without saying goodbye.

By the time he reaches the diner, his thoughts are so dark that he doubts even seeing Nicole will cheer him up. Not to mention, his mother is right. What _does_ she see in him?

When he arrives, she’s already there. She waves and smiles from a booth toward the back of the diner. He slides into the seat across from her.

“Hey, Arthur. I had a really nice time last night.”

He doesn’t look at her, but hangs his head, his thoughts spinning. 

“Arthur?” she asks softly. “Are you okay?”

He lifts his gaze to her. She’s staring at him with soft blue eyes and his anger fades.

“I don’t know,” he replies. “I found out something last night and I don’t know what to think about it.”

“Do you want to tell me?”

He sighs, hesitant.

“You don’t have to, but if you want to talk about it, I’m here.”

They’re supposed to talk about the possibility of him finding gigs on his own. That’s what this lunch is about--that and spending Sunday afternoon together. Will bringing up his mother and Thomas Wayne ruin everything?

“I just. . .it’s family stuff.”

“Personal. I get it.”

“Last night, my mother told me who my father is.”

Nicole doesn’t answer right away. Finally, she says, “That’s pretty big, huh?”

Arthur’s eyes widen. “You have no idea.”

“Do you. . .know him?”

“Everybody knows him. She says Thomas Wayne is my father.”

* * *

Nicole stares at Arthur for a long moment. Her first impulse is to laugh. That this is some kind of joke. She heard Arthur’s material at Pogo’s, and while some of his stuff is funny, it’s also pretty warped. He could possibly be practicing new material on her right now, but he doesn’t look like he’s joking. There’s a sadness, and a darkness, in his eyes that worries her.

She remembers talking to her mother last night. He has a lot of problems, her mother had said. Arthur has a personality disorder. Nicole already knows that his perception of things is sometimes. . .different. Is that what’s happening now? He can’t possibly believe that Thomas Wayne is his father. That’s downright delusional. 

“Thomas Wayne,” she repeats.

“I know it sounds crazy.”

“It kind of does,” she admits.

“My mother worked for him over thirty years ago. She was his housekeeper.”

Maybe that’s why he feels comfortable with her? Nicole is a housekeeper, too, although at a hospital. Still, when they met, Arthur didn’t know about her occupation. Now she’s really getting paranoid.

“She said that they kept their affair secret and he couldn’t have her--or me--in his life because we’d be an embarrassment. She’s been sending him letters basically begging for money because I’m too much of a failure to take care of us. According to her my job sucks and I’m a sad, pathetic loser with no chance of being a comedian or anything else.”

Regardless of who his father is, one thing Nicole knows is that Arthur’s mother does nothing except deplete his already dwindling self-esteem. It’s a co-dependant relationship. She’s only known him a matter of weeks and already she can see that. Penny depends on him to take care of her and their apartment, and he’s been so beaten down by mental illness, his nasty boss, and life in general that he listens to everything she tells him.

“You know what she says isn’t true, right?”

“About Thomas Wayne being my father? I don’t know. Maybe he is? Why would she lie?”

From what Arthur has told her about Penny during their conversations, she seems to lie about a lot, even to the point that she might believe those lies herself.

“Arthur, you told me that she’s kind of delicate. Maybe she doesn’t remember things clearly.”

“Because the idea that a man like Thomas Wayne could be the father of a loser like me really is crazy, isn’t it?” His face twitches and there’s no mistaking the anger in his eyes.

“If I thought you were a loser, would I be wasting my time with you?”

“Why _are_ you with me?”

Now Nicole is getting angry. “What? I thought we liked each other. It’s not my fault your mother told you Thomas Wayne is possibly your father.”

He glares at her for a moment. With that look in his eyes, he's unexpectedly intimidating, but she holds his gaze. She might be anxious, but submission isn't in her nature.

After a moment, he shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I just don’t know what to think anymore.”

“If he _is_ your father and she’s been sending all those letters that he’s ignoring, then he doesn’t even deserve to know you. He’s an asshole.”

“Why would he leave me?” Arthur whispers, more to himself than to Nicole. “It was probably because of me. She said people would talk about us.”

Nicole places her hand over his. “If that’s true, then like I said, does it really matter now?”

“That’s easy for you to say, Nicole. Your parents are great. You’ve always had them around. I--It wasn’t like that for me. Why wouldn’t he want me? Am I that. . .bad?”

Nicole squeezes his hand. “You’re not bad at all. If what your mother says is true, then Thomas Wayne is a fucking loser. Being rich doesn’t mean a person is decent. All he seems to do is put people down--people who aren’t like him.” Her brow furrows. “The question isn’t why didn’t he want you, but why would you want him? If he’s biologically your father and did what Penny said, then you’re a better man than he is because I _know_ you wouldn’t do that to someone.”

A faint smile tugs at his lips. “Thanks. Part of me still would like to meet him, though. Just to see.”

A warning signal goes off in Nicole’s brain. She hopes Arthur won’t do anything stupid. Penny Fleck sending letters is one thing, but him attempting to meet a famous, powerful man who probably isn’t his father could only lead to trouble. Again she wonders if she’s doing the right thing, taking a chance with Arthur. Even being his friend is proving to be difficult--not because she doesn’t like him, but because he seems to be in a bad place right now in so many ways. Still, the thought of breaking it off with him doesn’t feel like an option. He’s found a place in her heart, and even if she walked away right now, she would never forget him. The very thought of not seeing him again saddens her. It’s been a long time since she’s wanted someone new in her life. She’s not prepared to let that go easily. 

“I’d be careful, Arthur,” she warns. “Thomas Wayne is rich and people like him can be mean. If he’s ignoring Penny’s letters, he won’t want to see you, either. I feel like an awful person telling you that, but I don’t want to see you hurt more than you already have been.”

He entwines his fingers with hers and strokes his thumb over her wrist. “You’re not awful. You’re the nicest person I’ve ever met.” He kisses the back of her hand. It tingles pleasantly where his lips touch her skin.

“Maybe we should talk about the side gigs and stuff?” she says softly, hoping to change the subject from Thomas Wayne to one that will benefit him more.

“Oh. Yeah. I brought my pay stubs and a list of medications with the prices. It’s steep, Nicole.”

She takes the stubs and the list of medications from him. He’s right. It’s a chunk of money, especially for someone with low income. Tomorrow he sees Dr. Mitchell, the psychiatrist at the clinica, so the list or doses might even change, but at least this gives them a general figure to work with.

“Okay. I’ll check out as much as I can this week,” she says. “It will probably take me a couple of days.”

“Thank you for helping with this.”

“I’m glad to.” She means it.

After lunch, they go for a long walk. They talk a lot about her family and his dreams of stand up comedy. He’s working on fresh material, like she suggested. She asks if he wants to test some out on her, but other than a joke or two, he wants to keep it secret. When he’s ready, he’ll test it on her first.

They stop in a park not far from her house and sit on a bench. It’s another fairly warm day, but there’s a pleasant breeze--or it would be pleasant if it didn’t carry the stench of Gotham garbage that’s piling higher than ever.

They sit in comfortable silence for a while. Nicole rests her head on Arthur’s shoulder and he holds her close. He walks her home and kisses her goodbye. 

Nicole wants to ask him in, but she has to study for the college course she’s taking, and with Arthur in her apartment, she’ll only be distracted. Not to mention she hasn’t had a chance to buy condoms yet, and the temptation will be too great. 

Part of her almost feels guilty about desiring him. He seems really vulnerable and she doesn’t want to take advantage of him. She’s also a little scared. It’s been a long time since she’s even dated, and when she had, she didn’t do much besides kiss. Most people would laugh at her for being the world’s oldest virgin, but she doesn’t really care. Arthur is the first person she’s ever truly wanted to sleep with.

Complications. Life is always so full of complications.

She looks out the little window by her front door, watching Arthur head for the bus stop.

Thomas Wayne? 

She shakes her head. 

Impossible.


	10. He’s Paying You Peanuts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to anyone who has left kudos and read this story. I haven't written a fan fiction since 2015 and haven't shared one in even longer than that, so I really appreciate you taking a look and I hope you enjoy it.

On Wednesday night when she gets home from work, Nicole dials Arthur’s number. The phone rings and rings until Penny answers.

“Hello? This is the Fleck residence.”

Nicole smiles at her greeting. “Hello, Ms. Fleck. This is Arthur’s friend Nicole. We spoke before.”

“Yes?”

“Is Arthur home?”

“Not yet. He’s. . .just a second. He’s here now. Happy! You have a phone call.”

Arthur told her that his mother calls him Happy, even though he feels like it’s a bad joke. He’s never been very happy, at least not before he and Nicole started dating. 

There’s the sound of muffled voices, and then Arthur says, “Hey, Nicole.”

“Arthur, I know we didn’t have plans to see each other until the weekend, but I have a lot of information about the business and I was hoping you might be able to come over tonight?”

“Yeah. I can do that. Hang on a second.” Muffled voices again. When he returns, he sounds a little breathless. “Sorry. My mother needed some help in the bathroom. Can I call you back, or just come to your house in about an hour and a half?”

“Sure. That’s fine. Is it better if I go to your place? Will you mom be okay?”

“You don’t have to come here. It’s just--hold on. Yeah, Mom! I’ll be there in a minute. Nicole? She’ll be fine. I just have to go. See you soon.”

“I’ll be here. Arthur?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you eating with your mom?”

“No. I’m not hungry right now.”

“Good. You can eat with me.”

“Sure. What are you having?”

“Do you like pot pie?”

Actually he does. “Yeah.”

“Chicken or vegetable?”

“Chicken.”

“You got it.”

“Bye, Nicole.”

“See you soon.” She hangs up, a giddy warmth in her belly. She usually feels like that around Arthur. She wasn't sure he'd want to come over on such short notice, but impulsive behavior like that doesn't seem to bother him. To her, if something isn't planned ahead, it's usually a big deal. Her issues and Arthur's are in some ways different enough that they might be able to balance each other. Possible? Nicole wants to think so. Glancing at her watch, she hurries to the kitchen. She needs to tidy her apartment and cook the pot pie so that it will be ready when he arrives. 

* * *

Arthur smiles as he hangs up the phone. Nicole. He hadn't expected to see her today. This is a huge bonus.

“Happy! I need a towel!”

“Coming, Mom!” He rolls his eyes and strides to the bathroom. He hasn’t even taken off his damn jacket yet. 

After bringing her a towel and helping her out of the tub and back to the bedroom, he heats up her dinner.

“Are you doing laundry tonight?” she asks.

“No. I’m going to Nicole’s for a while. I’ll do laundry tomorrow.”

“You’ve been seeing a lot of that girl. When are you going to bring her home to meet me?”

This surprises him. “You want to meet her?”

“Of course. I might as well see the girl who’s stealing my only son.”

Sure. There has to be a catch. “She’s not stealing me, Mom.”

“So you say.” Penny eats a forkful of mashed potatoes and swallows slowly, her eyes half closed and a spiteful look on her face. He hates it when she gets like this. She does it to make him feel guilty, but he won’t let it work this time. “She calls you almost every night, and you take her to clubs. You’re probably doing heaven knows what. Just remember what it was like for you growing up with no father and don’t do anything someone else might regret later.”

Arthur’s lips curve into the same rigid grin as when Hoyt chews him out at work. He listens to his mother go on and on, ignoring her and instead thinking about Nicole. Or at least he tries to. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he sees himself smothering Penny with a pillow just to shut her up, so he’ll finally be free. All he’s doing is having a nice time with a sweet, pretty lady and Penny has him fathering neglected, illegitimate children. She’s planting doubts in his mind so that he’ll second guess himself about seeing Nicole. His appointment with the new psychiatrist on Monday at the clinica has helped him think about things a little differently.

Dr. Mitchell gave him better feedback than he ever got from the social worker. The shrink tweaked his medication, and even cut out certain ones. That will help with the cost. He encouraged Arthur to continue keeping a journal and working on his social relationships--mostly Nicole. He suggested that Penny might be frustrated because she’s not fully in control of her own life. She might also fear abandonment and therefore tries to manipulate Arthur. It’s hard not to bicker with her and that only makes him feel guilty. The doctor said he should tell himself that these control issues are about her and not to let them interfere with his happiness. If he needs to, walk away from Penny for a while. If she’s not able to stay alone, there are programs that offer help, even for a few hours a week. If she knows he won’t always accept her verbal abuse and manipulations, she might not take him for granted as much. With all Penny’s issues, that might not be possible, but it’s worth a try. Even if it doesn’t change her ways, it will at least give Arthur some time away from her to recharge.

Maybe the doctor is right. Penny is probably afraid, and he gets that. He won’t abandon her just because he has a girlfriend. He knows what that feels like, and he won’t do that to a mother who has loved him his entire life, no matter how bad he is. No matter that he was stuck in isolation at the hospital. No matter that he’s just a party clown who doesn’t make a whole lot of money. He still makes enough to pay the rent, help buy food, and cover the phone bill. 

If this business thing with Nicole works out, he’ll do even better, but he doesn’t tell Penny about that. He remembers what she told him about being a comedian. She said he wasn’t funny, and sadly, she’d been right. He’d failed at Pogo’s. He can’t handle it if she tells him that he’ll fail at this clown business with Nicole. Not right now, so he just keeps silent and continues smiling until she quits talking.

He takes a quick bath and changes into black pants and a red sweater. Then he combs his hair and dabs on a little cologne. Nicole had liked that on the night they went to Pogo’s.

When he steps out of the bathroom, Penny shifts her gaze from the television to him. “Well you’re all dressed up tonight.”

“It’s just an old sweater.”

“It’s one of your best. And you smell like cologne again.”

“I’ll be home later, mom.” He leans down to kiss her cheek, but she turns away.

“Don’t mess yourself up before you meet that girl.”

It’s not like he’s wearing his clown paint and she can smear it. She’s just doing this to be testy. He focuses on his breathing and reminds himself that these are her issues, not his.

“If I need to reach you, what should I do?”

“Call Nicole’s house. Her number is on the fridge.” He puts on his tan jacket. “Goodnight, mom.”

“Mmm.”

Arthur shakes his head and leaves the apartment. He double checks the locks to make sure Penny will be safe, and then he heads for the bus stop.

* * *

“First of all, that asshole boss of yours is paying you shit,” Nicole says as soon as she opens the door to let Arthur inside.

“Can I get a hello? Maybe a kiss?”

Smiling faintly, she shakes her head and kisses his mouth. Then she takes his hand and leads the way up to her apartment. “I’ve checked out what the average clown makes per gig, and compared it to the percentage you’re earning from Hoyt. Basically, you’re sign-spinning what little ass you have off for that jerk and he’s paying you peanuts.”

“The boss is supposed to make more, though, right?”

“Yeah, but this is ridiculous.”

“He hired me right when I got out of the hospital. He said I was a risk.”

“That was how long ago, and you’ve been working steadily for him ever since? Arthur, just take a look at what I found out about what you can possibly make on your own. I’m not saying you’ll be rolling in money, but you’ll be a lot more comfortable than you are now. If this business works out, you’ll be able to pay for your own health insurance plan even.”

“Hold on. I thought we said it would be just a few gigs on the side at first.”

She stares at him. “Yes, but I’m just letting you know what’s possible. Sit down and listen to this." She settles onto the couch and pats the cushion beside her. He sits, his heart beating a little faster. He's interested in what she has to say, but he can't help the way he feels when they're sitting so close that he smells her perfume and can just about count her long eyelashes. He wants to kiss her again, but he stops himself--at least for the moment.

After explaining what it would take to start his own business, including the cost of registering his DBA with the state, insurance, advertising, and overhead for the usual stuff like costumes and makeup, he shakes his head.

“I can’t afford that and still survive. There’s rent. Food. Other bills. And this is supposed to be to pay for my meds.”

“The meds are the most important thing,” she agrees. “You can just try a few side jobs and see how it works out. If you want to expand, I’d be willing to give it a try with you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ll help cover the costs of starting the business. I told you. I have some money saved.”

His throat tightens and he stares at her in disbelief. “You’d do that? Why?”

“It just seems right. I feel like neither of us would do something like this without the other. I know nothing about being a clown, but I think I can handle the business end. If I front most of the money to start and I screw up, then I won’t feel guilty about dragging you into it.”

“What if I fail? What if it turns out I can’t do this without Hoyt’s bookings? What if I end up back in the hospital again? What if--”

“Like I said. We’ll deal with it. Should we give it a shot?”

He's giddy and terrified and excited. Laughter clogs his chest. He tries to control it.

“Go ahead.” She waves her hand. “Laugh. Just thinking about actually doing this gives me so much anxiety right now I might cry.”

He laughs, choking a little. “You go ahead, too.”

Now she’s laughing, her eyes watering. It’s weird, to see someone else lose it outside of the hospital--someone who probably should be in there, too, because anyone who plans to invest in a business based on his talent has got to be crazy.

She reaches for him and they hug each other tightly. After a while, his laughter subsides and he just holds her. His eyes closed, he focuses on the scent of her floral perfume and coconut shampoo, and the feel of her soft hair against his face. Her body is curvy, but firm, probably from all that jogging and working out on her punching bag. Arthur is a pretty good runner, too, but he doesn’t do it for fun. He’s learned to run for his life. It’s better than getting his ass kicked. 

Nicole lifts her head from his shoulder and meets his gaze. “You smell nice again.”

He half closes one eye. “Does that mean I usually smell bad?”

“No. Sometimes the cigarettes are kind of strong.”

“I’ve been trying to cut down. You’re allergic and Dr. Sykora reminded me how bad it is for my health. Sometimes I have to have one, though.”

“I get it. I’m like that with candy.”

He grins. “I didn’t know that.”

“Oh yeah. Especially chocolate and coconut. That’s my favorite.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He kisses her, closing his eyes to better enjoy the sensations bombarding him. She tastes so good. Like cinnamon flavored gum, cherry lip gloss, and a unique taste that’s just hers. Her lips are soft and warm. They part when he slides his tongue along them.

She hugs him tighter. She’s pretty strong, and it feels good, the way she squeezes him and presses her soft breasts against his chest. Feeling confident, he trails his hands down her back and slowly cups her bottom. It’s nice and firm. He kneads it and she moans a little, giggles some, and slides her fingers through his hair.

“Arthur,” she whispers against his lips. He slowly opens his eyes. Her soft, needy expression makes his pulse race.

“I brought condoms.”

She laughs. “Subtle, Arthur. Really subtle.”

“Sorry.” He shakes his head and glances down, not because he’s embarrassed, but because he’s afraid he’ll scare her off if she sees how much he wants her. They probably won’t actually sleep together yet. She doesn’t seem like that kind of woman. It will take some time, but he’ll wait. Now he feels like he might actually have some time to work on his relationship and his life. Dr. Mitchell seems like a good psychiatrist, and now there’s hope that Arthur will be able to continue on his meds.

“Don’t be sorry.” She pulls a package out of her pocket and holds it up. “I got some, too.”

Now he meets her gaze and grins. Excitement coils in his belly and other parts of him awaken.

He takes her face in his hands and kisses her again. Holding her close, he lies on his back, taking her with him. Straddling him, she moans softly. They’re not just kissing--they’re devouring each other. 

Arthur has never been turned on this much in his fucking life. She seems just as eager. Her breath is warm and fast against his mouth, and then his neck. She doesn’t stop him when he slides his hands under her clingy black sweater. He delights in the sensation of her warm, smooth skin against his palms. When he slides his hands to her stomach, she sits up a bit, allowing him easier access to her breasts. They’re not very big, but they’re perfect. Round. Soft. He fumbles with the front clasp on her bra. Chuckling a little, she sits up only to quickly unfasten it. He stares, awed, as she wiggles out of it, sliding it off while keeping her sweater on. She’s such a beautiful tease.

“Better,” she purrs, settling back onto him and kissing his mouth again.

This time when he slides his hands under her sweater, her bare breasts sit warm in his palms. She inhales deeply, her eyes on fire. Arthur is hard and aching. How far will they go? It doesn’t matter. He’ll enjoy whatever they do.

“I don’t really have much experience,” she admits. “I know that sounds crazy for someone my age--”

“Neither do I. Do you care?”

“I think I like it better this way.”

He smiles, holding her gaze. “You know what? Me too.” 

Again she kisses him and he closes his eyes, wrapping his arms around her, holding her close. She slides her hand down and he holds his breath when she caresses him through his pants. He lets her take her time, but it’s fucking hard to wait. Finally she unzips him and slips her small, soft hand beneath his underwear. She’s about to--

Her phone rings.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” she mutters.

Arthur has a sinking feeling that the call is for him.

“It might be work. I have to get it. I’m sorry.” She looks pained.

“It’s okay. I’m not going anywhere. . .unless you want me to.”

“Don’t you dare move, Arthur Fleck.” She playfully points in his face before hopping off the couch to answer the phone that rests on the kitchen counter. “Hello? Oh, hi, Ms. Fleck. Arthur is right here.”

His teeth clenched, Arthur stands and tries to zip his fly. Then he realizes he doesn’t have to bother. He strides to the kitchen and takes the receiver from Nicole. She turns to walk away, but he wraps an arm around her. Smiling, she snuggles closer to him.

“Hi, Mom. Are you okay?”

“Happy, I woke up in the living room and realized you haven’t been home yet.”

“I was home.”

“I know. I remembered as I was dialing Nancy's number." Now she's Nancy. Arthur had even written her name on the note with her phone number. _Nicole._ He had clearly written Nicole. "I didn’t want to hang up. That’s such a rude thing to do. She’d get all the way to the phone and no one would be there. Will you be home soon?”

“Not for a while. We’re in the middle of a movie.” He glances at Nicole who grins and slides her hand inside his underwear again. Arthur draws a deep breath. His heart pounds, and he’s on the verge of laughter. 

“Okay. Try not to make too much noise when you come home because I’m going to bed now.”

“I’ll be quiet, Mom.” He takes several steadying breaths, like the doctor suggested he try when laughter threatens to take over.

“Goodbye, Happy.”

“Bye.” He hangs up and turns to Nicole. “Did that kill the mood?”

She looks down his underpants. “It didn’t seem to.”

Raising an eyebrow, he grins wickedly and kisses her again.


	11. Blood Smile

Over the next few weeks, Arthur manages to pick up a few side gigs. One is for a birthday party for the six-year-old daughter of one of Nicole’s co-workers. It goes so well that parents of several kids at the party book Arthur as well. Nicole's dad says word of mouth is the best advertisement.

Though he doesn’t have the full cost of next month’s meds, it’s enough to cover most of it. He can definitely squeeze the balance out of his regular paycheck. Fitting gigs in between working at Ha Ha’s is tricky, though. Hoyt questions his lack of availability on certain days, and Arthur knows it’s only a matter of time before he has to choose between his job at Ha Ha’s and starting the business he and Nicole talked about.

Working extra is draining, too. The change in his meds has helped in some ways, but while he’s adjusting, he’s tired. Since meeting Nicole, he’s eating more, which also helps. They have breakfast together on weekends, sometimes lunch and dinner, too. During the week, if their schedules allow, they meet for lunch, and he’s been eating at her house a few evenings a week, after giving Penny her dinner and watching Murray.

He knows his mother feels unsure about him seeing Nicole so much, and he doesn’t want her to feel abandoned. Though he’s become relatively comfortable around Nicole’s parents, he hasn’t brought her home to meet Penny yet. He’s nervous about what Penny will say to her. She might deliberately bring up embarrassing things about Arthur. Or she might even be mean to Nicole--not intentionally, but because she hates the idea of Arthur spending so much time away from home.

She still writes to Thomas Wayne, but Arthur has stopped mailing the letters. Nicole is right. If Thomas Wayne was going to answer, he would have by now.

A local school has hired Arthur for a gig at a parents/kids night. It’s in the evening and Nicole has her class at the community college which is not far from Arthur’s gig. After leaving Ha Ha’s, he meets Nicole and they take the bus. He walks with her to her class and then continues for another couple of blocks to the grammar school. The event goes a little longer than he expects, so except for his shoes, he doesn’t bother changing out of his clown costume before hurrying to meet Nicole, whose class is probably over by now.

When he approaches her building, she steps out and smiles, adjusting her book bag on her shoulder.

She grins. "Hey, Carnival."

“Sorry I’m late,” he says.

“No big deal. My class got out like five minutes ago.”

“I’d have been later if I'd changed clothes.”

“You're cute like this." She kisses his cheek.

“Yeah?” He gazes at her through his long lashes.

“Oh yeah.”

They fall into step alongside each other on their way to the bus stop. The city is strangely quiet. Not a lot of traffic, so they’re startled by the screech of tires and blaring horn.

A blue sports car crosses onto the wrong side of the road and hits an old white coup.

“Oh my goodness!” Nicole gasps.

A guy in a suit staggers out of the sports car. “Fuck me. Shitty driver! You fucked up my car,” he slurs.

The smell of gasoline permeates the air.

“I’ll call the police.” Nicole darts toward a nearby payphone.

Inside the coup, a kid cries and beats on the rear window. The man behind the driver’s seat is slumped, unconscious against the steering wheel, his face streaked with blood. Arthur instinctively heads for the car. The kid looks about three years old, and he’s hysterical. Smoke leaks from the car’s hood.

Arthur tries the door, but it’s jammed. Two large rocks rest in front of a barbershop sign. He picks one up and breaks the window opposite the kid. He reaches in and struggles with the car seat straps before finally freeing the boy.

“Arthur, this car could blow up!” Nicole shouts. “The police are coming.”

He shoves the kid into her arms and checks the driver’s door. Luckily it opens, but the unconscious man is tall and heavy.

“Fucking help him!” Nicole shouts at the asshole who caused the accident.

“Fuck that!” the guy says. “He wrecked my car.”

“You piece of shit!” Nicole places the boy a safe distance from the road and helps Arthur haul the guy out of the car. He comes to and his arms flail. Nicole ducks, but the guy’s elbow hits Arthur in the face. Blood pours from his nose.

Sirens screech through the city. The police are almost there.

“Where’s my son?” the man demands, his eyes still unfocused.

“He’s okay,” Nicole says, picking up the whimpering boy. The child glances at Arthur and screams.

Arthur turns away, catching his reflection in the barbershop window. His wig has fallen off, exposing tousled brown hair. His makeup is messy, and his cheerful red smile half wiped away--it must have happened when he struggled to free the boy and his father. The poor kid must be terrified--in an accident and rescued by a nightmarish clown whose nose is now bleeding into his mouth. _You were put here to bring joy and laughter to the world._ As if drawn by a strange impulse, Arthur reaches up and smears his blood into a clown smile. He grins with as much cheer as he can muster at the moment, turns back to the boy, and pulls his clown horn from his pocket. He honks it and the boy stares with wide eyes.

“Arthur, I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Nicole says softly.

A small crowd has gathered. A few people even snap photos of the accident.

Two police cruisers and an ambulance arrive. Uniformed officers break up the crowd and direct people to a safe distance from the smoking vehicle. There’s an explosion and flames engulf the car. Nicole gasps, the little boy screams, and Arthur jumps. He stares at the car, his heart pounding. _Fuck._

The police arrest the jerk in the sports car while EMTs load the boy and his father into the ambulance. A familiar face approaches.

“Arthur and Nicole? What’s going on here? Hey, do you need to go to the hospital, too?” Detective Amenguale says.

Arthur shakes his head. “I wasn’t in the car. I just got an elbow in the face.”

“I’m sorry,” the injured guy calls to Arthur. “Thanks. Thanks for what you did.”

Arthur nods and wipes his nose. It’s still bleeding. Nicole offers him a wad of tissues. When he takes them, she draws a sharp breath. “You need to go to the hospital.”

His hands and forearms are bloodstained, probably from the broken car window. He hadn’t even noticed until now.

“We’ll give you a ride,” Detective Amenguale says. He waves to a muscular, brown-haired cop, also in street clothes, who is surveying the scene. The guy approaches. “This is Detective Wojciehowicz. Hey, Wojo, let’s give Arthur and Nicole a lift to the ER. We can get their statements on the way.”

“Okay.” Wojo holds up Arthur’s green Carnival wig--a bald white head with tufts of green hair on the sides and a tiny hat on top. “Chano, look what I found. Weird, huh?”

“That’s mine.” Arthur reaches for it.

Wojo narrows his eyes at Arthur. “You put on a wig to look bald?”

“Yeah.”

“Whatever, man.”

“I’m a clown.”

Wojo shrugs. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. There’s nothing wrong with having a sense of humor.”

“Don’t even ask.” Detective Amenguale rolls his eyes and guides Arthur and Nicole toward his car. They sit in the back while he and Detective Wojciehowicz climb into the front.

Arthur feels a little numb. He wonders if tonight really happened. It's almost dreamlike.

“Are you okay?” Nicole asks.

“Yeah. Are you?” He focuses on her. After all, she had helped him pull that guy out of the car.

“I’m fine. Is your nose still bleeding? Let me see.”

He's not used to someone caring about him like this. It's nearly too much to handle sometimes, to feel looked after--loved, almost, and to love someone back. He's not sure if Nicole loves him, but he definitely loves her.

Ever-so gently she touches his face and studies his nose.

Arthur can't stop staring at her. “I think it’s stopped. It's no big deal, Nicole."

Her attention turns to his hands. They're starting to hurt, or at least he's feeling grounded enough again that he notices the pain.

“Every time I see you, you’re injured, Arthur,” Detective Amenguale says. “I think you need a vacation, man.”

Arthur grins. “Yeah. Hawaii.”

“Hula girls.” Wojo flashes a toothy grin.

Gazing at Nicole, Arthur imagines her in a grass skirt.

“What’s that look about?” she asks.

“Nothing.” He smiles faintly.

At the hospital, an ER doctor cleans and bandages Arthur’s hands and arms. He needs just a few stitches on a particularly deep cut, but nothing serious.

“Great,” he grumbles as he and Nicole walk to the waiting room. “Just what I need. An ER bill.”

“The hospital will accept payments, and you needed those cuts taken care of. At least your nose isn’t broken. Does it hurt a lot?”

“Not bad.”

The police detectives have waited around and offer to drop Arthur and Nicole home. She insists on going to his apartment and will call her dad for a ride from there.

“I want to make sure you’re okay,” she says.

“I said I’m fine.” He wishes she could come with him. Right now he doesn't want to leave her. It would be great if they could just cuddle on his couch for a while, but he's not ready for her to meet his mother.

“Why don’t you want me at your place?”

“I told you. My mother can be a little difficult.”

“I can handle it. Don’t you think it’s time I meet her face to face?”

Arthur glances toward the detectives in the front seat and then back to Nicole. “Do we have to talk about this now?”

“Can I walk up to your apartment with you?”

“Yeah.” He relents. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Wojo laughs. “Mothers can be tough to take sometimes. I wouldn’t bring any of my dates to meet my mother.”

“And that’s probably a good idea. I’ve seen some of your dates,” Detective Amenguale says.

Moments later, they arrive at Arthur’s building. They thank the detectives and Arthur leads the way inside. His stomach clenches and his heart beats fast. With any luck, Penny will already be asleep, otherwise this is probably going to be a disaster.


	12. Meeting Penny

Nicole follows Arthur into his rundown apartment complex. She hates elevators and avoids them whenever possible, but Arthur looks tired and she knows that if she asks him to point her to the stairs, he’ll walk with her. She can handle the elevator. It’s as creaky and rundown as the rest of the place. Her stomach clenches and a feeling of panic threatens to overcome her. 

He hits the buttons several times. The elevator takes so long to respond that she almost loses her nerve and bolts out, but finally the door closes and they’re on their way. She hopes she doesn’t get dizzy once they’re off. That usually happens to her after an elevator ride. 

_Just relax. It will be over in a minute--unless this piece of junk jams and we’re stuck, or worse, it crashes._

One thing she hates most about working at Holt Neuro is that she’s forced to ride the elevators on a daily basis. Depending on the cleaning equipment she’s using, she can’t always take the stairs.

The elevator stops. She releases her breath and follows Arthur down the hallway. He unlocks the door to his apartment and holds it open for Nicole who steps inside. It’s a small place, with peeling paint on the door. It smells faintly of cleaning fluid, cigarettes, and an old-fashioned floral perfume. 

“Happy! You’re late again. Did we get any mail?”

“No, Mom.” He glances at Nicole and rolls his eyes. Under his breath, he mutters, “Here we go.”

“I ate leftovers. You missed watching Murray.”

Nicole follows Arthur into the living room where Penny Fleck sits on a chair near the television. Her long, gray hair is combed down her back, and her makeup is noticeable, but tasteful. She wears a floral nightgown and slippers. Her gaze rivets to Nicole.

“Mom, this is my friend Nicole.”

“Yes. I think you mentioned her.” Penny nods in Nicole’s direction before focusing on Arthur. “Happy, why are you still dressed like a clown? You look terrible. Your paint is all smeared. How do you make people laugh looking like this? You’re the saddest clown I’ve ever seen. Why are your hands bandaged? What happened?”

Nicole’s stomach tightens. Arthur has warned her about his mother, but until now, she hasn’t fully understood. Nicole tries to remain open-minded, but she dislikes Penny on sight. It’s easy to see why Arthur is peculiar. It couldn’t have been easy, having her for a mother.

“There was an accident, Mom.”

“An accident! Are you all right? What were you two doing?”

“There was a car crash, Ms. Fleck,” Nicole says. “Arthur helped people who were stuck in one of the cars.”

Arthur glances at her. “So did you.”

“He’s always been a good boy.” Penny pats Arthur’s arm. She briefly turns to Nicole. “He helps me so much. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

“He's the best.” Nicole smiles at Arthur. He smiles back and lightly strokes her cheek with the back of his bandaged hand.

“Where are my manners? Natalie, would you like something to drink? Tea, maybe?”

“It’s Nicole, Mom.”

“No, thank you, Ms. Fleck. I just stopped in to make sure Arthur is okay and to meet you.”

“Well, isn’t that nice. Happy, I’m so tired. I’m going to bed. Don’t keep the television very loud.”

“I won’t. Goodnight, Mom.” He helps Penny up and walks her to the bedroom. He starts to close the door.

“Keep it open just a little,” Penny calls. “It gets too hot and stuffy with it closed all the way.”

He sighs and rolls his eyes again, but does what she asks, leaving the door open a few inches.

Turning to Nicole, he says, “I’m going to change in the bathroom. Make yourself at home.”

Momentarily alone, Nicole slowly wanders around the apartment. It’s homey, in a way. It looks like most of the stuff in it belongs to Penny--the paintings and knickknacks. She doesn’t see much of Arthur here, except for a coupon for a balloon animal kit on the wall in the kitchen and several of the VCR tapes piled near the TV. Lots of old movies, musicals, and a bunch labeled Murray. Nicole laughs softly. Arthur does love Murray Franklin. She doesn’t understand the fascination with Murray. To her, he’s not even that funny, but when it comes to comedy, she’s a tough sell. 

The apartment has just one bedroom, and it’s Penny’s. There are pillows and a blanket on the couch, and she guesses it’s where Arthur sleeps. That must be awful, to sleep every single night on a lumpy old couch. She wishes he’d spend the night at her place once in a while, but even when he falls asleep there, he ends up waking and coming back here. He’s afraid to leave Penny alone for long, and she can understand his concern. Still, she’s more able-bodied than Nicole expected, considering how much Arthur does for her as far as personal care. 

She’s about to sit on the couch when Arthur steps out of the bathroom. His face is freshly washed and his hair combed back. He wears a long-sleeved T-shirt that clings to his thin frame, loose pajama bottoms, and socks. She notices that his nose is a little swollen, but thankfully not too bad.

After glancing in the bedroom, he joins her on the couch. “She’s asleep,” he says, wrapping his arms around Nicole and kissing her temple.

She hugs him back, cuddling against him.

“What a night,” she says softly.

“I know, huh?”

They sit quietly for a few minutes, and he relaxes against her, his breathing even. Since Dr. Mitchell adjusted his medication, he’s been tired, and working extra probably hasn’t helped. She wonders if he’s feeling the same weary relief she’s experiencing after witnessing the accident and trying to help that father and son. At least she hadn’t been injured, too. When she’d seen Arthur climbing into the smoking car to get the little boy, she’d been terrified that it might blow up before he had a chance to get out. She’d feared for both their lives when they dragged the kid’s father to safety. 

“Oh my goodness!” Nicole stands abruptly.

“What’s wrong?” He looks like he just woke up. Maybe he had drifted off. He’d been relaxed enough, which isn’t usual for Arthur. He tends to be jittery.

“I have to call my parents. If they hear about the accident near the school, they might think something happened to us. Can I use your phone?”

“Sure. It’s right in the kitchen.” He points.

Nicole dials her parents' number. She speaks as softly as she can, so she won’t disturb Penny, and asks if her father can pick her up at Arthur’s. She’d rather not take the bus home alone, especially at this time of night. He says he’ll be there in about half an hour.

When she hangs up and returns to the living room, Arthur is lying on the couch, his eyes closed and his breathing even.

“Arthur?” she whispers, but he’s out. 

She covers him with the balled-up blanket on the end of the couch and kneels beside him, watching him sleep. His lashes are so long they almost look false. Thick, dark hair frames his angular face. He’s an unusual guy for sure. When you first meet him, he doesn’t seem like much, but the longer you know him, the cuter--and stranger--he gets. Maybe his strangeness is part of what attracts her. Who knows?

She stays until it’s time to meet her father. Before she leaves, she drops a gentle kiss on top of his head. 

* * *

Arthur wakes to the phone ringing and his mother shouting, “Happy! Answer that!”

He jumps off the couch. The blanket wraps around his legs and he nearly falls over the coffee table. A glance at the clock shows that he was supposed to be at Ha Ha’s half an hour ago. He’s rarely late for work. Last night he’d just passed out. The extra gigs, the accident, the changes to his medication--everything just caught up with him.

“Oh my God.” He breathes, stumbling toward the phone. He picks up the receiver. “Hello?”

“Where are you?”

“Hoyt, I. . .I’m not feeling well. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Don’t bother. I saw the news this morning.”

Arthur’s head spins. The news? “What are you talking about?”

“There were pictures of you at that accident last night. What were you doing out in your clown getup?”

“I. . .was. . .at a Halloween party.” That’s stupid. Hoyt won’t believe him.

“That’s bullshit, Arthur. You’re a liar. You’ve been lying to me for weeks. I know you’re working for another company.”

“Hoyt, I--”

“If you think you can do better without me, go ahead. I don’t need a freak like you around my place anymore. I gave you a job when no one else would hire you, and this is what you do?”

“I can explain--”

“You’re fired, Arthur.” The phone clicks.

“Happy! Who was that?” Penny, wrapped in her bathrobe and blinking sleep from her eyes, wanders out of the bedroom.

“Wrong number, Mom,” he says weakly.

“Have you seen the time? Don’t you have to be at work?”

“I have the day off.”

“Why?”

“I just do. Go wash up. I’ll make breakfast.”

“A day off. Maybe we can rearrange the furniture around here. That would be nice.” Penny’s voice drifts off on her way to the bathroom.

“Fuck.” Arthur mutters, his throat tight. He drags a hand through his unkempt hair. Now he has no choice but to start a business with Nicole. He lost his job. Great. If he doesn’t get enough gigs, he and Penny will get evicted. He won’t be able to afford his meds for sure. Or food. He reaches for his pack of cigarettes, pulls one out, and lights it. Taking along drag, he closes his eyes and tries to relax. A soft laugh escapes his throat. He won’t be able to afford cigarettes, either. Nicole will be happy about that. He really has tried to cut down, but fuck it, right now he needs to smoke.

Nicole. He has to call her, but at this time she’s already at Holt Neuro. Maybe he can go there later and see if she’s free for lunch. 

“Oh my goodness!” Penny shouts from her bedroom. “Happy! You’re on TV!”

 _Huh?_ Still puffing on the cigarette, he hurries to her bedroom and sits alongside her at the foot of the bed. She’s right. There’s a photo of him and Nicole at last night’s accident scene. A blood smile stretches across his face and his eyes shine weirdly amidst the runny blue diamonds painted around them. His dark hair frames his clown face. It’s different than his usual Carnival look--wilder. More. . .adult? 

“Last night a man dressed as a clown reminded this city that there are still people out there willing to help others. After David Smith and his three-year-old-son were struck head-on by Michael Brown, this clown-faced hero rescued the child who was trapped in the back seat of the car. Then he and an equally courageous young woman pulled Smith out of the car just moments before it caught on fire. Michael Brown, a computer programmer with Wayne Enterprises, has already been arrested twice in recent years for DWI. This recent accident combined with rape charges against three other Wayne Enterprises employees has sparked outrage in Gotham, particularly against Thomas Wayne who is currently running for mayor. As of this morning, Wayne has made no comment regarding last night’s accident. As you can see by people gathering outside the jailhouse where Brown is being held, the people seem to have a new inspiration.”

Several people wearing clown masks mingle outside the jailhouse. A few hold signs with things like _Clown Champion is No Joke, but Thomas Wayne Is_ and _Clown for Mayor_ written on them.

“Why didn’t they say your name?” Penny says. “They don’t know who you are.”

“I’m not anybody, Mom,” Arthur says, but something sparks inside him. Pride maybe? Pleasure that he’s being praised while Thomas Wayne is mocked? Has Nicole has seen this? This isn’t just about him. She was right there beside him.

“Well, your life has certainly become more dangerous since you met that girl.” Penny sighs. “You’ve never done anything like that before.”

Arthur heads to the bathroom to wash up, pausing on the way to squash out his cigarette in the ashtray on the coffee table. He’s still worried because he’s lost his job, but seeing himself on television is kind of a rush. He grins at himself in the mirror. Then he puts his fingers in the corners of his mouth and pulls it into an exaggerated clown-like smile. Again, he thinks about how he looked last night--a clown, but not Carnival. Something more. Nicole has told him that he’s a great clown and that he should do what he’s good at in his stand-up act. He’s been working on new material, but suddenly it’s all come together for him. Unique. Nicole says he’s unique.

He drops his fingers from his mouth, but keeps smiling. This new act will be unique all right. He’s not going to tell Nicole about it until he’s got it down perfect. He wants it to be a surprise. 

A laugh escapes him. This idea is so good, that it might even help their new business. Maybe losing his job at Ha Ha’s isn’t such a bad thing after all.


	13. Born to Be a Clown

At lunchtime, Nicole hurries out of Holt Neuro to meet Arthur. He rarely calls her at work, so she was surprised to hear from him and even more surprised when he asked if she could have lunch with him.

It’s been a strange morning. No sooner had she walked into work than several coworkers and Rita showed her the morning paper. She and Arthur were in a small article on page three. 

“Your names should be in the article,” Rita had said.

“Oh no.” Nicole’s face had heated. 

The last thing she wants is to have her picture in the paper. It might make Arthur happy, though. He enjoys attention, and being seen as a hero is a positive thing.

All morning she’s wondered if he knows about the article.

He’s standing outside the medical building, a folded newspaper tucked under his arm and a half-smile on his face. His heel taps nervously on the pavement. When he sees her, he smiles wider and strides toward her, looking eager.

“Hey.” He kisses her cheek, and then he hands her the paper. “Did you see this? There’s a picture of us.”

“Yeah.” Nicole smiles, glancing at the photo. She looks scared in the picture, but it could be worse. The little boy in her arms stares at Arthur’s painted, bloody face with wide eyes. A cop and several onlookers mingle behind them.

“I can’t believe it.” He stares over her shoulder at the photo.

“Neither can I.” Nicole returns the paper to him.

“Nicole, we have a lot to talk about.”

“You said that on the phone. What’s with all the mystery? Why aren’t you at work?”

“Come on.” He takes her hand and she practically has to run to keep up with him on their way to the cafe across the street. While standing in line, she can almost feel waves of anxiety--or is it excitement?--rolling off him.

Nicole orders a toasted cheese sandwich, an apple, and a bag of chips. 

She turns to Arthur. “What are you having?”

Glancing at the woman behind the counter, he says, “Black coffee. One sugar, please.”

“Food?” Nicole asks.

He shakes his head.

This worries her. Lately he’s been ordering at least something to eat when they’re out together, and he almost always tries a little of what she cooks at her place.

Once seated, she takes a bite of her sandwich and swallows. “Are you sure you don’t want half?”

"I'm not hungry." His bouncing leg shakes the table.

“Arthur.” She stretches her leg out and hooks her calf around his. “What’s wrong?”

“Maybe it’s not so bad. I’ve been thinking about it all morning, and it’s a good idea. I think we can do this.”

She stares at him, waiting for him to elaborate, but he looks far-off, completely lost in thought. “What, Arthur?”

“The business. Like you said.”

“You think we should go ahead and try it? Do you think you can handle it right now along with Ha Ha’s, or are you ready to give your notice?”

“I got fired this morning. Hoyt guessed that I’ve been moonlighting. He saw our picture in the paper and asked why I was in my clown costume. I told him I was at a Halloween party, but he didn't believe me. I was just trying to think of a way to cover up my side gig. It’s more than that, though. He’s been wanting to fire me. Something about the other guys thinking I’m weird.”

Nicole curls her lip. “They all sound pretty weird to me, except maybe Gary.”

“Yeah, but I make them uncomfortable.”

“They make you uncomfortable, too, right? Especially that asshole Randall? Hoyt seriously fired you?”

“Yeah, but it’s probably a good thing. Now that I’ve booked some gigs on my own and you know so much about business, we can get things rolling.”

“I don’t know all that much, Arthur.”

He holds her gaze, a worried look in his big green eyes. “Are you nervous about it? Do you not want to do it anymore?”

“No, I want to. You know me. I panic, but it’ll be fine. I know we can do this.”

“We can. I’ve been thinking of possible names for the business.” He pulls out his journal and flips through it. He hands her a page with a list of names written in his bold hand. 

Nicole takes it from him and scans through, laughing at a few of the names. Some are pretty good. “I like Clown Kingdom.”

His smile broadens. “That’s my favorite, too. Imagine me as the Clown Prince of Gotham.” He opens his arms wide, his eyes practically glowing. “I have a lot of ideas for this, Nicole.”

She chuckles. “The performance part is all yours. I don’t know anything about being a clown.”

“I was _born_ to be a clown.”

He might have a point. At least he seems excited enough about this that he’s not depressed about losing his job, he’s not obsessing about stand-up comedy, and he’s focusing on something constructive. It’s also good for Nicole to push herself out of her comfort zone. Anxious thoughts are already knocking around inside her head. On her own, she’d never try a venture like this--but he might not, either. Together they can do this. What’s the worst that can happen?

They fail. Arthur can’t afford not only his medication, but rent and food. 

She’s overreacting. Even if the business fails, Arthur is capable of holding a job. They’ll find a way to make it through, no matter what.

“All right. Can you come over tonight so we can talk about this more?” she asks.

“Yeah. Definitely.”

“I’ll see if I can get a personal day off from work this week. We can get the forms to register as a DBA with the state and once that’s settled we can open a business bank account. In the meantime, keep booking gigs and get paid in either cash or checks made out to you personally. We’ll have to get some estimated tax forms.”

“Hoyt always took taxes and stuff out of our checks.”

“Well, think if me as Hoyt.”

He shakes his head. “No. You’re too pretty. And too nice. I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

“Neither can I.” She opens her bag of chips and offers it to him. 

He takes a couple and chews them absently, staring off into space.

“What are you thinking about?” she asks.

“Everything. I have to go to Ha Ha’s to clean out my locker.”

“Are you going today?”

“Probably.”

“I wish I didn’t have to go back to work.” She sighs. 

“I wish you didn’t, too.” He squeezes her hand.

It feels so nice being here with him, happy and safe. She really doesn’t want to go back to work, but she has to, especially now that she and Arthur are starting this new venture. She’ll be dipping into her savings account, but it’s worth it.

She used to dream about being self-employed. This is a good chance for both of them. 

She shares the rest of her lunch with Arthur, who has finally found his appetite. Before leaving the cafe, she buys a blueberry muffin and they eat it on the way back to Holt Neuro. He kisses her goodbye outside and she feels a sad pang watching him go. That’s the thing about her anxiety. If she takes a break from her day, sometimes it’s hard to get back. 

Once she’s at work again, she feels better and can’t stop thinking about opening their business. Arthur said he’ll be back at the end of her shift so they can walk to her house together. She can hardly wait.

* * *

After leaving Nicole at work, Arthur catches the bus. Better to go clean out his locker at Ha Ha’s now and get it over with. During the ride, he gazes at the photo of him and Nicole again, and then he flips through the paper. On page two, there’s an even larger photo of Thomas Wayne with his wife and son.

A pang darts through him--is it anger or sadness? He can’t tell. Maybe it’s a little of both. He wonders how a man can give everything to one son, and throw the other away like a piece of trash. Young Bruce Wayne looks detached in the photo--sort of like Arthur feels when he’s really depressed. Other than having loads of money, maybe Thomas Wayne isn’t such a great father to Bruce, either. Who knows?

Questions turn around in Arthur’s mind. Is Thomas really his father? What will he do if Arthur confronts him? He doesn’t want anything from Thomas, except maybe a nod. A smile. A hug. He’s never had a father. He knows Penny had men in her life, but he doesn’t remember much about them or even his own past. She tells him he was a happy little boy, but the only thing he recalls about his childhood is certain feelings--fear. Anger. No specific incidents.

His brow furrows. He’s never thought much about it, until now. Why can’t he remember?

Penny wants him to rearrange the apartment, but instead of going home, Arthur takes another bus. Then he has a fairly long walk to a part of Gotham he’s never visited before, only seen on television. 

It’s where the rich live--where Thomas Wayne lives.

He approaches the mansion. It’s surrounded by an iron fence and trimmed shrubs. He’s never imagined a house could be so beautiful and so remote. There’s less smog in this part of Gotham. Less people, and less trash. 

He sees a small, lone figure in the yard. Bruce Wayne. The urge to approach the boy, just to say hello and see if he looks any happier than in the newspaper almost overcomes him.

He still has his clown stuff that he picked up from Ha Ha’s. His big red nose and some magic tricks. Maybe he can make Bruce smile.

Then he recalls Nicole’s words. People like Thomas Wayne can be mean. If he wanted Arthur in his life, he’d have answered Penny’s letters. 

Maybe once Arthur and Nicole’s business is a success, he might try to talk to Thomas. That way, he’ll know that Arthur isn’t looking for any money from him. 

Arthur walks away from Wayne Manor without so much as approaching the gate. 

He arrives home with a couple of hours to spare before meeting Nicole, so he moves furniture around the apartment according to Penny’s directions. She ends up hating every new arrangement, so everything ends up back in its original spot. Finally he heats up a frozen dinner for her, puts on his jacket, and grabs his notebook.

“Are you going out, Happy?”

“I’m going to Nicole’s.”

“Again?”

“She’s my girlfriend, Mom.”

“You can bring her here, you know. What do you two do over there?”

Arthur grins, thinking about so many of the things he and Nicole have done in her apartment. On the couch. In the kitchen. On the bed.

“Tonight we’re talking about the business we’re starting together.”

“Business?” Penny looks horrified. “What do you know about starting a business?”

“It’s a clown business. I’m not working for Hoyt anymore. Nicole knows a lot about business. She almost has her college degree.”

“She’s a housekeeper. Just like I was, but at least I worked at Wayne Manor and not in some hospital.”

“Holt Neuro isn’t just some hospital, Mom. Her boss is one of the best brain surgeons in the world.”

“That’s him. Not her. She washes floors.”

“Well now she washes floors and runs my DBA.”

Penny looks perplexed. “What’s a DBA?”

“Doing business as. I’m doing business as Clown Kingdom.” He thinks. That’s if Nicole agrees on that name.

“Oh, Happy.” Penny looks upset. “You were doing so well working for someone else. That girl has done something to you.”

Yeah. Nicole has done a lot for him. She probably saved him from killing himself--or maybe even someone else. When he first met her, he’d been that depressed and that tired of being kicked around.

“Why won’t you give her a chance, Mom?”

“I am giving her a chance. I just don’t want her to ruin your life.”

Sometimes he wonders about his mother’s view of the world. 

“I’ll probably be late, so go to bed whenever you want,” he tells her. “You can leave the tray. I’ll clean it up in the morning.”

“One of these days you’ll probably come home to find me dead in this apartment.”

He stares at her for a moment. The thought of losing her makes him both sad and--relieved? No. That would make him an awful person. It’s not that he hates his mother. He loves her, but sometimes living with her can be so hard. If he wasn’t such a loser, he might have a better job, his own apartment, and maybe someone look after Penny. Again he wonders what Nicole sees in him.

“Bye,” Arthur mutters on his way out.

“Have a nice time, Happy. Don’t worry about me.”

Curling his lip, Arthur closes the door and checks the locks before striding toward the elevator. 

* * *

When Nicole gets out of work for the day, Arthur is pacing outside Holt Neuro, reading his journal. Every now and then, his lips move and he gestures, smiles, and nods. He’s practicing his new stand-up act. He’s been working on it, but hasn’t shared much of it with Nicole. Soon. He keeps telling her soon.

She’s talking to another worker on her way out and takes a moment to introduce her to Arthur. After a brief, pleasant exchange, her coworker heads for the parking lot.

“Do you want to walk or take the bus?” Nicole asks. Since meeting Arthur, she has become more comfortable with using public transportation. Her anxiety hasn’t vanished, but it’s more controllable now that she’s been taking the bus with him regularly. 

“Let’s walk. It’s easier to talk that way.”

She agrees. She’s never felt comfortable having a personal conversation while surrounded by strangers.

Arthur zips his notebook inside his jacket. He’s bled through the bandage on his right hand. Are the cuts worse than the ER doctor thought? He had only stiched one on Arthur's left hand.

“What happened?” She lightly grasps his hand and examines the bloodstained bandage. “Maybe you need stitches here, too?”

“No.” A faint smile tugs at his lips. “It happened when I punched out at Ha Ha’s today, after I cleaned out my locker.”

“Who did you punch out?” she asks, half teasing, half sarcastic.

He laughs.

“Really, Arthur, what happened?”

“I told you.” He takes her hand, and they fall into step beside each other on the way to her place. “All right, I hit the time clock. Do you have any idea how many times I’ve been mad in there and just swallowed it? For once I just let it go.”

“So you hurt yourself?”

He chuckles again. “It was worth it to see that clock crash.”

She gapes at him. “You knocked it off the wall?”

“Fuck yeah.”

Nicole shouldn’t find that funny, but for some strange reason, she does.

“All right, so fuck Ha Ha’s, and let’s move on to Clown Kingdom,” she says.

“You like that name the best, too? It think that should be the one.”

“Me too.”

“I have a bunch of ideas for some new acts. I wrote most of them in my journal, but I didn’t have time to finish.”

“We can work on it tonight. Oh and I asked for a personal day, and my supervisor said Thursday will work. We can meet for breakfast, if you want, and get all the business stuff done in the morning.”

“Okay. Then we’ll have the rest of the day to spend together. I don’t have another gig until Friday afternoon.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“I got a call this afternoon. It’s another kid’s party.”

“Did you happen to call the children’s hospital to let them know you’re no longer with Ha Ha’s?”

“I didn’t think of that. Do you think they’d call me instead of Hoyt?”

“Well, considering they’ve requested you several times, it sounds like it’s Carnival they want, not Hoyt. He just books you and takes most of the money.”

“You’re right. I’ll call them tomorrow morning.”

It’s just a ten minute walk to Nicole’s house. When they step inside, the aroma of spaghetti and meatballs fills the air. Nicole’s stomach growls. 

“Nicole, your father made dinner, if you want to eat with us.” Her mother steps out of the living room. “Hi, Arthur. Are you two hungry?”

“Yes,” Nicole says, and glances at Arthur. “Do you want to eat? Then we can talk about the business upstairs.”

“Okay.”

“I’m going to shower and change clothes first,” Nicole says.

“The food will be ready in about half an hour.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Nicole leads the way up to her apartment. Arthur follows. He’s not touching her, but she feels his presence behind her--his warmth and energy. She almost can’t remember a time when he wasn’t in her life, and she can’t imagine a life without him. She knows it’s probably far too soon for this, but she’s fallen in love with him. She’d been so sure that would never happen to her. No one could ever know all her secrets, all her weaknesses, and still want to be with her. Parts of her life that embarrass her, like social anxiety, driving and bus phobias, don’t seem to bother him at all, or if they do, he’s never said anything about it. He has problems, too, and sometimes it’s an adjustment, looking at the world through his eyes, but to her it’s worth the effort.

When she’s in his arms, when they kiss, it’s like nothing she’s ever felt before, and she wants to be with him. Always.

In her apartment, she changes out of her work clothes and tosses them into the washing machine in a laundry nook toward the back of her kitchen. Barefoot, wearing nothing but her bra and briefs, she hurries to the bathroom. 

From where he sits on the couch, Arthur gazes at her with a playful but wolfish look in his intense green eyes.

“You’re beautiful like that,” he says, his voice rough.

“Yeah. Right. I just got out of work and look like crap.”

“No you don’t. Sit on my lap?” He pats his thighs. 

She laughs. “At least let me take a shower first. I’ve been cleaning up around a hospital all day. Germs and stuff. Hold that thought, though.” She sprints into the bathroom and steps into the shower. She quickly washes her hair and scrubs with soap. Then she dries off and wraps a towel around herself. 

During her dash from the bathroom to her bedroom, Arthur glances up from his journal to cast another hungry look in her direction. Nicole’s heartbeat quickens. If only they had more than a few minutes before dinner, but she’s already told her parents they’d join them. No backing out now, at least not without looking suspicious. Her parents must know that she and Arthur don’t just talk and watch TV up here, but they try to be discreet.

She pulls on socks, underwear, pink sweatpants, and a white tank top, not bothering with a bra. She’ll put on a sweatshirt before going to dinner. After combing her hair, she smoothes lotion on her face and berry-scented cream on her arms.

Tingling with anticipation, she steps out of the bedroom and approaches Arthur who is still seated on the couch, leaning toward the coffee table, pen in hand, his journal open in front of him. His brow is furrowed and he scribbles a few notes.

“I can leave you alone until dinner,” Nicole says softly. “I don’t want to interrupt your thoughts.”

He glances up at her, his gaze lingering on her nipples visible through the white tank. “Interrupt me. Please.”

Smiling, she closes the distance between them. He sits back on the couch, and she straddles him, running her fingers through his thick, dark hair and sinking onto his lap while covering his mouth in a lingering kiss. His warm hands caress her back and slide under her tank. The roughness of his palms and the gentleness of his touch is an intoxicating combination. 

“You smell good,” he whispers against her lips and kisses her again.

Her eyes closed, Nicole loses herself in him, focusing on his scent--soap, fabric softener, and cologne. There’s the faintest trace of cigarette smoke, but he’s smoked less and less, at least around her. She’s glad, partly because she hates the smell, but mostly because it's so bad for his health.

Angling his head, he moans softly and slides his hands over her ribs to her belly. He strokes slowly upward until he palms her breasts. Nicole wiggles on top of him, rubbing where she’s soft and aching against his enticing stiffness.

“Time to eat!” Nicole’s father bellows from the foot of the stairs.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Nicole whines, breaking their kiss.

“This is gonna be awkward,” Arthur says, his voice a little hoarse and a wicked gleam in his eyes. She tries to stand, but his wiry hands hold her on his lap.

“You’re so bad,” she teases.

“I know.” He grins and kisses her again.

“We have to go.” She reluctantly pulls back.

“Okay.” He sighs, a playful look in his eyes, and releases her. He glances at the bulge in his pants and raises an eyebrow. “Just give me a minute to like--”

“Deflate?”

He offers a toothy smile.

“I’ll tell them you’re in the bathroom.”

“Did you hear me up there?” her father bellows again.

“Yeah, Dad!” she shouts back. “All of Gotham heard you!”

Arthur laughs--his natural laugh that hitches at the end in a most adorable way. Nicole brushes his mouth with a kiss before hurrying to her room and grabbing a sweatshirt. She pulls it over her head on the way out of her apartment.


	14. A Little Dye

Nicole’s parents’ kitchen table is set for four. In the center of it, sits a bowl of salad and a pan filled with spaghetti and meatballs with marinara sauce. Beside it, sliced bread is piled on a plate. A tub of butter rests nearby.

Her mom and dad are already seated.

“Where’s Arthur?” asks her mom.

“He’ll be down in a minute. This looks great, Dad.”

“Thanks. I hope it tastes good.”

“It always does,” Nicole replies, filling her dish. 

They talk about their day, and a few minutes later, Arthur joins them. His gaze meets Nicole’s and they exchange smiles.

Her dad glances through the door to the television that’s on with the sound turned down in the living room. A crowd of people in masks and clown makeup carry signs at a recent protest outside Wayne Tower.

Since Arthur and Nicole rescued the father and son from the accident caused by that Wayne employee, some people have been using his clown look for inspiration. Some of the messages have been positive, such as _Be a Clown. Save a Life_ and _Clown for Mayor_. Nicole recalls reading a sign that said _Clowns can be heroes, too, Thomas Wayne._ Other messages are rougher and more violent toward Wayne and wealthy people like him. Nicole understands the anger in this city. People are being treated unfairly and it needs to stop. She doesn’t think Thomas Wayne cares about helping those who need it. He’s more interested in keeping big business owners happy, but he has a point about cleaning up the city. She just doesn’t think he has the right idea about how to do it, not to mention she hates even the remote possibility that Wayne might have fathered Arthur. If that’s true, then he’s the worst kind of scum, taking what he wanted from Penny and throwing Arthur to the proverbial wolves.

Nicole’s stomach clenches at the sight of Thomas Wayne on TV talking to a reporter. Does the man ever look anything except pompous?

“Wayne. That’s exactly the kind of guy this city needs for mayor,” her dad says, stabbing a meatball with his fork.

Neither she nor Arthur have ever mentioned that Thomas Wayne might be Arthur’s father. Her parents have been very understanding, and while she knows they like Arthur, they’re still concerned about how serious their relationship has become. 

Arthur glances toward the television, his comfortable expression fading. He swallows visibly.

“I don’t know,” Nicole’s mom says. “I think all politicians are the same.”

“But he’s not a politician,” her dad says. “That’s why I like him.”

“You like him?” Arthur asks softly.

“Sure. He’s all about cleaning up Gotham. Too many freeloaders sucking off the system.”

“Dad,” Nicole says quietly.

“What?”

“Some people legitimately need assistance.”

“I’m not talking about _those_ people.”

“Just drop it, Herb,” her mom says. “I’m sick of hearing about politics.”

“I don’t see the problem. Everyone at this table works for a living.”

Arthur stares at the small portion of spaghetti on his plate.

“Wayne will be good for this city. He’s a family man. For the people. I'd think Arthur would be more pissed off about it than anyone.”

"Why me?" Arthur's voice squeaks a little. 

"You're the one who started this whole clown hero thing, not that you meant to."

"Herb." Nicole's mom casts him a warning look. 

Her dad doesn't seem to notice. Waving his fork, he continues, "Now people are using your act of bravery for their own political agenda. It's _bullshit_."

Arthur winces. Casting his gaze down, he lowers his long eyelashes, and a tense smile plays around his lips. By now the signs are obvious to Nicole. She’s about to reach out to him, but he starts laughing.

Covering his mouth with his hand, he shakes his head and manages to squeeze out, “I’m sorry.” He stands and leaves the table, but his pained laughter rings through the house.

Nicole’s mother and father exchange glances. They’ve seen Arthur’s laughing episodes a few times before, but it’s still difficult to witness.

“Excuse me.” Nicole wipes her mouth with a napkin and rises from her chair.

“Really, Herb! Why can’t you ever start normal table conversation?” her mom scolds.

“What did I say?” Her dad sounds dumbfounded.

Nicole follows Arthur to the small foyer where he’s still laughing into the crook of his arm.

“Try counting.” She remembers Dr. Mitchell has recommended counting during an episode. Nicole counts with him until he’s back in control of himself.

“Sorry.” He wipes his watering eyes with his palms and shakes his head. “Your parents probably think I’m crazy. Crazier?”

“They don’t think anything like that.”

“Thomas Wayne--”

“Why can’t you forget about him?”

An almost angry look flashes across his face. His brow furrows. “How can I? See what your dad said, though? How he feels about Thomas Wayne.”

“He’s in the minority.”

“That’s not the point. Once our business is doing well, maybe I’ll try to meet Thomas Wayne. Show him that I can make something of myself without him. I don’t need him.”

“That’s my point, Arthur. Why approach him at all? You’ve come this far without him.”

“How far?” he scoffs. “If I hadn’t met you, I have no idea where I’d be or what I’d be doing.”

“It’s the same for me with you,” she says, stepping so close that they’re almost touching.

Taking her face in his hands, he kisses her tenderly. 

“Please forget about Thomas Wayne.” She holds his gaze. “Focus on good stuff, like us and the business. I have a really good feeling about it, Arthur.”

“Me too.”

“Let’s have dinner.”

He nods and takes her hand on their way back to the kitchen.

* * *

After dinner, Nicole and Arthur talk a lot about Clown Kingdom. She has created a business plan with details he never would have thought about. He feels pretty useless, until she asks him about his ideas. He has tons--stuff Hoyt would probably never let him try at Ha Ha’s. Not so much his Carnival act, though he has fresh ideas for that, too, but the possibility of a clown comedy act for adults. Something a little sassy and a little sick. Nicole seems to like the idea, though she says it might be a little harder to book since he has less experience with that kind of performance. In reality, yes, but in his mind, he’s been performing in that way for a long time. He wanted to do it like that at Pogo's--confident and unapologetic, but he’d fucked it up. The more he thinks about it, the more he realizes Nicole is right--he hadn’t exactly been himself. The next time he tries stand-up, it will be different. _He_ will be different.

When they finish talking, they snuggle on the couch and watch an old movie. 

Halfway into the movie, he gazes at Nicole who has fallen asleep against him. It’s getting late, and she has to be up for work tomorrow.

“Nicole,” he whispers, kissing her temple.

She stirs. “Sorry I fell asleep.”

“It’s okay. Come on. Go to bed.”

She stands unsteadily, still sleepy, so he wraps an arm around her and walks with her to the bedroom. She absently checks the alarm clocks on her nightstand--she usually sets three, which he thinks is weird, but whatever works for her. Then she climbs into bed. 

If only he could crawl in there with her, but he needs to make sure Penny is okay.

“Goodnight.” He arranges the covers around her and gently kisses her mouth. “Talk to you tomorrow?”

“I wish you could stay.” She reaches up to caress his face. Her small, warm hand feels good against his skin, but it's more than that. Her touch sparks a tingling warmth deep inside him.

She's so fucking tempting. Maybe he could stay over some night, if he leaves his house late enough and is home early. What could possibly happen to Penny overnight? 

She could fall, or get sick.

He wishes they had a bigger apartment. That way Nicole could stay overnight at his place sometimes. 

“Goodnight, Arthur.” She curls onto her side and closes her eyes.

He strokes her hair before leaving. It’s fairly chilly outside, especially after cuddling with Nicole. He pulls up his hood and stuffs his hands in his pockets on his way to the bus stop.

When he gets home, Penny is deeply asleep in her room. Arthur isn’t tired--probably due to excitement about Clown Kingdom. Not to mention, he’s been thinking a lot about his new act. He spends half the night writing in his journal. Finally he falls asleep, and it feels like moments later, a crash from the kitchen wakes him. He jumps up, blinking sunlight from his eyes.

“Oh, Happy, I didn’t mean to wake you,” Penny says. “I dropped a pan. I was going to make oatmeal.”

“I’ll do it,” he mutters, scrubbing a hand over his face and feeling the night’s growth of stubble. He drags himself into the bathroom. By the time he finishes washing and shaving, he feels better. The adjustment on his meds has helped. A pang of fear darts through him when he thinks about losing his job at Ha Ha’s. Will he get enough gigs on his own between now and next month to pay the rent and buy his meds? He stops thinking about it, otherwise he’ll get depressed. 

After making breakfast, he has a few hours before he has to perform at another birthday party this afternoon. He calls the children’s hospital, like he told Nicole he would. To his surprise, they book him ahead for two more gigs. 

His thoughts still churn with ideas for his new act. He’s been planning the look for days now. It’s inspired by the night of the car accident, and the more he thinks about it, the more it excites him. He’s not sure how Nicole will feel about the look, but it’s something he needs to do because it feels so _right_.

There’s still time before he needs to put on his Carnival costume, so he heads to a novelty shop a few blocks away. He’s bought lots of stuff there for his clown act--magic tricks and even some decent face paint. There’s something else he wants today, though. After making his purchase, he’s both eager and afraid to see what Nicole will think, but he’ll know tomorrow.

The birthday party is great. Most kids respond well to Carnival--to Arthur--unlike so many adults who find him crazy, creepy, or both.

Afterward, he goes home, cooks dinner, and watches Murray with Penny. While she watches an old movie, he goes into the bathroom with his earlier purchase from the novelty store. His heart beats a little faster as he undresses to his briefs. This could get messy. He turns on the radio and grins when he finds a station playing _That’s Life_ \--Murray’s theme song. While listening, he imagines being on the Murray Franklin Show, dressed as his new character. Clown Kingdom is a huge success. Nicole waits for him backstage, looking gorgeous in a black dress. She’s wearing an engagement ring. 

Floating back to reality, Arthur half-smiles at his reflection, squinting when dye almost trickles into his eyes. This is even messier than he thought.

“Happy!”

“Yeah, Mom!”

“Turn the radio down a little! I can’t hear the movie!”

He does what she asks. “Sorry, Mom.”

When he finishes, he dries his hair and stares at himself.

Nicole is either going to love this or hate it. 

He’s glad Penny has already gone to bed by the time he leaves the bathroom.

* * *

Arthur wakes early Thursday morning, excited to see Nicole. He can’t wait to show her his new clown character. Will she like him? He hopes so, because Arthur already loves him. 

“Happy, what happened to your hair?” Penny practically wails when she shuffles out of her room and stares at him. He’s in the kitchen making oatmeal for breakfast. “What have you done?”

“It’s just a little dye, Mom. For my act.”

“Ohhh.” Her voice trembles a bit. “How are you ever going to get a real job looking like this?”

“Mom, I don’t have a lot of time to talk. I’m meeting Nicole. We have a lot to do today.”

“That girl again.” Penny sits at the table and Arthur brings her a bowl of oatmeal.

“Nicole and I will be out most of the morning, but you have her number. We’ll probably be at her house in the afternoon. I have to get dressed.”

She starts to say something, but he ducks into the bathroom. It takes him a while to get ready. He wants to get everything just right. When he finishes, he stares at himself and smiles. 

Fuck, he looks good. Even more, he feels _great_. Being in costume always gives him more confidence, but this clown isn’t like Carnival--bouncy and cheerful and childlike. This clown is _different_. 

“Oh my--Happy, you’re going out like that?” Penny murmurs when he steps out of the bathroom.

“It’s not the first time you’ve seen me in costume.”

“But this isn’t like your usual outfit.”

“No. I’m a different character.” He spins and gazes at her through his lashes. “Like me?”

“I don’t know. It’s a little scary.”

He sighs and raises his eyes. “Thanks, Mom. You always know just what to say.”

Maybe a little scary isn’t such a bad thing, though. He’s not Carnival, after all. This guy is edgier.

“See you later.” Arthur dances his way to the door, picking up his plaid bag on the way. It contains a change of clothes, his medication, and his journal. Everything he needs for a day with Nicole. Except for one thing, but he’ll stop to get that.

“It’s that girl,” Penny mutters. “She’s _changed_ him.”

He tugs the door closed behind him, saunters down the hall, and stops outside the elevator. He presses the button and waits. It’s so funny how he’s been dressing like a clown for years, but he’s never felt like this before. It’s amazing what a few tweaks will do.

On his way to Nicole’s house, he stops at the corner market. Money is tight, but Nicole deserves something sweet--something that says thank you. He buys a single red tulip and a chocolate-coconut candy bar--her favorite. 

When he steps onto the bus, he gets a lot of looks, but there are some other people there with clown masks--something that’s started trending since the car accident. That makes Arthur proud. One of the guys carrying a clown mask gives Arthur a thumbs up, and Arthur offers a broad smile. 

He sits, his bag resting beside him and Nicole’s flower and candy on his lap.

The bus approaches the stop near her house, and Arthur’s heart beats a little faster. He’s been dreaming about this for a while--trying to think of the perfect way to present this idea. He doesn’t want to just read it out of his journal like his other ideas. He wants it to be real. This isn’t something he can _tell_. He needs her to _see_. 

And in just moments, she _will_ see.


	15. The Painted Wolf

“Nicole!” her mother shouts. “It’s. . .Arthur is here.”

Is it her, or does her mother sound a little strange?

“Tell him to come up!” Nicole yells back. “I’m almost finished getting dressed!”

In her room, Nicole applies red lip gloss and glances at herself in the mirror. She has dressed carefully this morning and looks elegant and professional--at least she hopes she does--in a black skirt suit with a white camisole underneath. Her hair is arranged in a neat French braid, and she’s wearing tiny faux pearl earrings. 

She hears the door open and then click shut.

“Arthur? I’ll be right out.” Giving her hair a final pat, she turns and gasps, her heart pounding.

Arthur stands in the bedroom doorway, but at first glance she scarcely recognizes him. He’s in full clown costume, and though she’s seen him in character before, it’s always been as Carnival. This clown is. . .different.

For one, his natural hair is dyed an eerie green. While his makeup is basically the same--white face, blue diamonds accenting his lovely eyes, and a red mouth. . .

That’s it. The mouth is different. There’s no cartoonish black outline framing the enormous red grin. He's not wearing his red ball nose, either, but has instead painted the tip of his own nose red. The look in his eyes is different, too, and his posture. Instead of slumped and almost shy, he lounges in the doorway, a bony shoulder resting against the frame. He’s not in an exaggerated clown suit, either. He’s in his red suit--the one he’d worn to Pogo’s--with his yellow Carnival vest underneath. His shirt is a different shade of green than his hair, but somehow it all fits together perfectly. The cut of the suit accentuates his narrow frame. He’s lanky, but graceful. Instead of a starving, beaten dog on the run, he’s a sleek, savvy wolf on the prowl.

He’s holding a blood red tulip and a bar of her favorite candy.

“Hey,” he says, his gaze sweeping her. “You look beautiful.”

“So do you.” She furrows her brow. Can a clown look beautiful? Apparently, yes.

“For you.” He hands her the flower and candy, and then he leans against the doorframe again. 

“Thank you. You. . . I didn’t expect--Arthur, I thought we were doing business stuff this morning?”

“We are. Don’t worry, I’ll change before we go, but I wanted you to meet him.”

“Him?”

He straightens, does a slow turn, and steps into the room, arms open wide, as if presenting himself to an adoring audience. “The character for my new act. The one I’ve been working on.”

“Yeah. . .it’s. . . he’s. I’m not sure how to describe it. Is it wrong for a clown to be sexy, because Arthur, this is somehow really, really attractive. In a weird way.”

“Weird.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a cigarette. He holds it between his long, thin fingers. “Weird can be good.”

Weird and maybe a little dangerous. It’s been a while since she’s felt wary around him, but something tells her this isn’t just another character. This is something more--a turn-on, but so different from any part of Arthur she’s ever seen before, and she thought she’d seen it all.

He raises the cigarette to his lips.

“You’re going to smoke in here?” She’s shocked and borderline annoyed. He’s never gone against her wishes about not smoking in her apartment.

“Unless you give me something better to do with my lips.”

She nearly retorts, but there’s a gleam in his eye--a playfulness that tells her this is part of his act. Isn’t it?

“Like what?” she asks, unable to keep from smiling. Her stomach clenches and she’s tingling all over. They really don’t have time for this, do they?

“What do you think?” He’s staring her in that way that makes her feel naked. At the moment, she wouldn’t mind actually _being_ naked. With him on top of her, kissing her with that painted mouth, his wiry hands all over her.

She places her flower and candy on the night table, and then she steps toward him, licking her lips, and sliding her arms around his neck. Those intense eyes have her trapped. He pockets the cigarette, and then he rests his hands on her hips before kissing her. 

The kiss isn’t rough, exactly, but it’s possessive. Hungry. The wolf has his prey trapped, and she wants to be devoured. 

Wrapping his arms around her, he holds her closer to his lean body. He’s thin, but hard--nothing but raw bones and wiry muscles. He’s gained a little weight since they’ve met, mostly because he usually eats when they’re together, even if it’s a little, but she guesses he’ll always be thin. It’s fine with her, as long as he’s healthy, and at the moment he seems exceptionally healthy.

He deepens the kiss and slides his hands to her bottom, squeezing it and pulling her even closer. He’s getting hard already, and his stiffness presses against her, turning her on even more.

“We really should be getting down to business,” she whispers against his lips, once he breaks the kiss.

“We are.” He grins, wiggling his eyebrows. He practically pushes her onto the bed.

She gives a little shout that ends in laughter when he nuzzles her neck in a particularly ticklish spot.

“Arthur, I spent all morning getting dressed to look good.”

“So did I.”

“Arthur!”

“What?” He opens his eyes wide, still grinning. “You think it’s easy to look like this?”

“No, but--”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be careful.” He reaches under her skirt and slides down her hose while she kicks off her shoes.

“I don’t know how you’re talking me into this right now.” But she knows. How can a clown be this hot? It’s not just the clothes and paint, it’s his _attitude_. 

“If I help, it will be faster.” She pants, squirming on the bed while removing her jacket.

“Patience. No one has any patience these days.” He takes her jacket and carefully drapes it over the chair at her vanity table. Then he reaches for her skirt that she’s removed and does the same. She’s about to unfasten her bra, but he says, “Stop.”

She freezes, staring at him, her heart pounding. 

“Let me.” He sits on the bed with her and slowly opens the front clasp on her bra. “I love opening presents. Did you know that?”

“No.”

“I love unwrapping pretty things, so humor me.” He parts the open bra and cups her breasts. He leans down and kisses them, leaving red lip prints on her pale skin. His tongue, which is almost the same shade as his lips, flicks over her nipples.

Nicole watches him through half-closed eyes, her breathing ragged.

Those long fingers hook in the sides of her panties and he slides them down, tugs them off, and tosses them aside. He gently takes her foot and squeezes it before pressing a kiss to the top of it. He trails his tongue from her ankle to her inner thigh.

“Arthur.” She grasps his shoulders, not sure if she’s trying to stop him or pull him closer.

He raises her leg over his shoulder and leans down, grinning, a feral look in those blue-green eyes framed by blue diamonds. His makeup is a little smeared now, and it makes him look even wilder. 

He licks his lips. “Don’t say no.”

They’ve fondled each other lots of times before, and regularly have sex, but he’s never done _this_. No one has ever done _this_ to her before.

“Arthur, I--”

He smiles wickedly and before she can say anything else, he dips his head to the place where she’s so hot and needy. He swipes his warm, wet tongue over her sensitive flesh, and Nicole surrenders to the painted wolf.

* * *

Lying naked in bed with Nicole cuddled against him, Arthur smiles and hums softly with pleasure.

If he wasn’t at her place, he’d smoke right now, but the smell of it makes her sick, and he’s more than content to just lie here.

Sex with her is always comforting at worst and fucking mind-blowing at best. This was definitely the second. Who would have thought his new character would turn out to be a green-haired Don Juan? He’s starting to wonder if this is really a character, or just part of himself he’s tucked away because he’s spent his life afraid to be anything but timid and submissive. 

Wait on Penny and take her subtle insults.

Laugh at Randall’s cruel jokes.

Smile while Hoyt berates him.

Make excuses for asshole kids stealing his sign and beating him up.

He’s pretty much at the point where he’s ready to tell the world to go fuck itself, but until this morning, he hadn’t realized how close to the edge he is.

This definitely feels good. Nicole makes a contented sound and tightens her arm around him.

The whole world can fuck itself, except for Nicole. He wonders if any of this self-realization would be possible, if not for her.

She tilts her face toward his and says, “We seriously need to get dressed and do what’s on our list for the business.”

He sighs and raises his eyes, grinning. “I know. Goofing off was fun, though.”

“Yeah. Definitely.” She kisses the center of his chest before sitting up.

“Hey.” He tugs her close to kiss her mouth, and then he releases her.

“I think we both have paint everywhere.” She glances down at the red lip-marks and smears of blue and white covering her body. The lip marks on her breasts are such a turn-on that he's already getting hard again. 

Damn. He could look at her all day--well maybe not just look. 

His face is probably a mess, too, but it was worth it.

“Did you bring a change of clothes, or are you wearing the suit?” she asks.

“I brought other clothes.” He already feels calmer, more like his usual self, but the new clown is still inside him. Waiting. Or maybe it's an old clown--one formed from the shit sandwiches he's been gulping for years and is finally ready to regurgitate back to the world.

Nicole washes up in the bathroom, and while she dresses, he wipes off his paint and takes a quick shower.

When he finishes, she’s nearly ready to leave, so he pulls on his normal pants and a red sweater. He's brought a knit cap, too, in case the green hair is too much for doing actual business stuff. 

“Thank you for my flower.” She touches the red tulip that she’s placed in a glass of water on the nightstand. “And the candy. Want a piece?”

He shakes his head and smiles slightly. “No. Enjoy it.”

“Oh, I’ve enjoyed the entire morning. Yeah. Definitely enjoyable.”

“Me too.” He draws a deep breath. “Nicole, I’m going to try open mic night at another club. I think I’m really prepared this time.”

Her smile fades. “You want to do it with this new character?”

“Yeah. I think it’ll work. Will you go with me again?” He winces a little. “If you don’t want to, I understand.”

“No, I’ll go. When?”

“This Saturday.”

She draws a deep breath and smiles, but it's forced. “Okay. It’s a date.”

“Thanks.” He takes her hand and kisses her cheek. “Let’s go.”

He knows she's not confident in him. Not really, but she's still going to support him. That means a lot. This Saturday will be different than the disaster at Pogo’s. He knows it will.


	16. Killer Clown

Saturday night arrives quickly. At Nicole’s house, she watches while Arthur prepares for his stand-up routine. Penny isn’t supportive of either his dream to be a stand-up comic or his business partnership with Nicole.

“Like Dr. Mitchell says, I don’t want any negativity tomorrow,” he’d told her on the phone last night when he’d asked to dress at her apartment.

She agrees, but having him get ready here benefits her, too. She enjoys seeing him transform into his characters, and due to their conflicting schedules, she doesn’t always get to witness it.

At the moment he’s seated at the vanity table in her bedroom. He’s wearing a plain white T-shirt, black jogging pants, and socks. He stares intently at his face while stroking the brush over it, creating a white base for the red and blue details. Music from the radio fills the room, and he thumps his heels in time with it, his legs bouncing to the rhythm.

In the mirror, his gaze drifts toward Nicole who sits on the bed behind him, staring with a half-smile.

“So you like to watch,” he says, the double entendre apparent in the inflection of his voice and the playful expression in his eyes.

“Oh yeah.”

He grins and places aside the broad brush. He picks up a finer one and dips it into the blue paint to create diamonds around his eyes. It amazes her how he switches the brush from hand to hand. He’s using his left now, to complete the details. He draws that big, red smile and then grins wickedly at his reflection.

“I wish we had time to do something now,” he says. “But we’ll celebrate after.”

She’s glad he’s this confident, especially after what happened at Pogo’s. Yet he’s different tonight than he’d been last time. Back then, he’d been skittish and preoccupied the entire day. Yes, today he’s been focused on his routine, but he isn’t nearly as jittery, and since he’s started dressing, he seems in complete control of himself. It’s as if this new character brings out traits she’s never dreamed Arthur possesses on any level.

“I’m looking forward to it,” she says.

Again their gazes lock in the mirror. “Me too.”

“Well, I’d better get dressed, too. I’ll use the mirror in the bathroom since you’ve taken over my vanity.”

“Sorry.”

He doesn’t exactly look apologetic, and she doesn’t blame him. Chuckling softly, she shakes her head and rises.

Within the hour, they’re both ready to go. She wears her usual black pants suit, and she feels almost like a shadow, standing beside Arthur with his painted face, green hair, and red suit. It’s fun, though. Before Arthur, she never would have done something like this.

They leave the house, and on the way to the bus stop, he offers her his arm. By the way onlookers stare at them, they’re a strange couple. Some people they pass also wear clown masks. They wave to Arthur who acknowledges them with nods and his cocky grin. Most of them probably have no idea that he’s the guy who started the “clown movement” in Gotham, but he knows, and that’s all that matters.

“I wish I’d come up with a good name for him,” Arthur says during the bus ride. Tonight he plans to go with his real name. He’s been picky about naming this character. This clown is very important to Arthur, and Nicole understands that finding the right name is essential. They’ve both brainstormed over the past couple of days, but so far nothing feels right to him.

When they arrive at Hyena’s Comedy Club, located across town from Pogo’s, he walks her to a table and sits with her for a few minutes. She looks for signs of anxiety, but he’s still relatively calm. His leg bounces a bit, and his blue-green eyes dart around the club in a predatory rather than fearful way.

“I’d better go.” He cups her chin and kisses her mouth.

“You’ll be great.” She squeezes his hand.

Grinning, he raises her hand to his lips. “I know.”

He releases her and stalks off. On the way, he lights a cigarette. Smoke trails behind him. Nicole glances at the imprint of red lips on the back of her hand and her heart beats a little faster. She hopes this isn’t all just a big show of confidence, and if it is, she prays he’s able to keep it up through his act. 

She’s so nervous that she can barely keep still. She’s on the verge of an anxiety attack when the announcer introduces Arthur.

This time instead of stumbling onto the stage, he practically glides. Then his movements slow and he stares at the audience with those predatory eyes. Nicole’s stomach clenches. The painted wolf is on the prowl again.

Several people laugh at the sight of Arthur in his clown gear. 

A guy shouts, “What’s with the makeup? Are you part of the movement, or are you just trying to hide your ugly face, man?”

Arthur laughs, a high-pitched, raptor-like sound that sends a chill through Nicole. It’s not his condition, nor is it his true laugh. This laugh belongs solely to the new clown.

“You’re right,” Arthur replies. “Everyone is so concerned with appearances, aren’t they? I know a guy who was convinced his dick was too small, so he went to a plastic surgeon and told him he wanted it to reach the floor. When he woke up from surgery, the doctor had amputated his legs.”

Stifled laughter and groans echo through the club. Despite herself, Nicole chuckles. It’s so awful, but at the same time darkly comical.

Arthur grins and utters a breathy laugh. “Don’t worry. If anyone is going to hell, it’s me for saying this shit, not you for laughing at it. Believe me, there are worse things than laughing at a sick joke. For example the woman whose husband said he’d rather die than give her oral sex, so she poisoned him.”

“That’s horrible, Arthur,” Nicole says under her breath, chuckling softly. Several people laugh, although they’re looking around self-consciously to see if other people care.

“If anyone should worry about being denied oral sex, it’s me,” Arthur goes on. “I’m on so much medication for mental health that I’m harder to blow up than a rubber raft. I should probably try dating skin divers just for their lung capacity.”

This gets a few guffaws, and Nicole covers her mouth with her hand, her face on fire. He’s outrageous.

He continues for his entire spot without a hitch. Some jokes are so sick they only get a chuckle or two, but other times he has everyone in the club laughing despite themselves.

When he saunters off the stage, the audience applauds and the announcer returns.

“I think we all need a dose of penicillin after that guy. Arthur Fleck, everybody.” He goes on to announce the next act, and moments later, Arthur joins Nicole at the table.

He smiles at her, his eyes shining. By the rise and fall of his chest and the rhythm of the artery throbbing along the side of his neck, he’s more excited than he appeared on stage. The scent of his cologne is strong--no doubt from a rise in his body heat. When she reaches for his hand, it’s cold, but damp.

“Are you okay?” she whispers in his ear.

He nods, his grin broadening, and whispers back. “It was good, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah. It was.” The act wasn’t exactly what she’d expected, but by now she knows that Arthur can be unpredictable. Most important, his act was successful, unique, and far more him than what he’d shown that night at Pogo’s.

They stay for a couple of acts, and then they decide to return to her house.

“We’re supposed to celebrate, right?” On their way to the bus stop, he wraps an arm around her and nuzzles her hair.

“Do you think we can? After all, I’m not a skin diver.”

He chuckles. “You’re quoting my material back at me now?”

“Of course. And for your sake it’s a good thing you didn’t say your current girlfriend is a skin diver.”

His grin fades and those intense eyes meet hers. “Some things I’ll never joke about, and our relationship is one of them.”

Tonight she saw what Arthur will do for a laugh, so hearing this from him is pretty much a confirmation that he’s in love with her. Neither of them have spoken the words yet, but every day the feeling grows stronger between them.

She squeezes his hand and tilts her head against his shoulder. When they reach her house, her parents are asleep, so they make their way quietly up to her apartment.

“Do you mind if I take another shower?” he asks.

“No. Maybe we could. . .”

“Yes?” He smiles, grasping her waist and tugging her so close that her breasts press against his lean chest.

“Share it?” Now would be the perfect time. So late at night, there’s no chance of her mom or dad possibly coming upstairs and realizing they’re in the shower together. Not that it’s unheard of for a couple to do that, but it would still be a little embarrassing for her parents to know when it was happening.

“Let me think about it.” He raises his eyes for a second, feigning deep thought, and then he brushes the tip of his painted nose against hers. “Yeah. That works for me.”

Taking his hand, she tugs him toward the bathroom. She runs the water so that it heats up while they undress and Arthur wipes off his paint.

Then they step under the warm stream. While Arthur tilts his face upward, letting water soak his face and hair, Nicole quickly runs the soap over her body. Then she soaps his chest and stomach. He lowers his head, shaking water from his hair, and swipes a hand over his eyes. He pulls her closer, covering her mouth in a kiss. It feels so good, standing here with him, water-slicked, completely bare to each other, physically and emotionally. 

When the kiss breaks, he takes the soap from her and washes fast, then he pulls her into his arms again. He kisses her forehead, her cheeks, and finally her mouth. Their hands roam over each other’s bodies and Nicole’s pulse races. Her legs weaken and warmth builds deep in her lower belly. His hardness pushes against her and she reaches for him.

Groaning, Arthur buries his lips in the hollow between her neck and shoulder. 

Taking a shower together seemed like a good idea at the time, but now it’s getting dangerous. They don’t have protection in here.

“Bedroom?” she murmurs.

“Okay.” He turns off the water, reaches for a towel and hands it to her before leaving the shower. Drying off, she steps out, too. He grabs a towel from the shelf over the toilet and runs it over himself. Rubbing the towel over his hair, he follows her to the bedroom where they tumble onto the bed, kissing and groping. 

Taking his face in her hands, she says, “Just to let you know, so far this has been the best night of my life.”

He stares at her, his eyes gleaming. “I never thought anyone would ever say that to me. And this has been the best night of my life, too. I. . .” He draws a tremulous breath. It’s been a while since he’s looked so uncertain around her. Finally he blurts out. “I love you, Nicole.” He lowers his gaze, as if expecting her to reject him. It hurts to know that he still feels that way, but a lifetime of being stepped on or over is hard to conquer.

“I love you, too, Arthur.” She hugs him tight, closing her eyes and resting her chin against the top of his head. He presses his cheek to her breasts, and for a moment they remain like that, neither moving, just feeling each other’s warmth and breath. 

Nicole has never imagined feeling this way, but she’s also never imagined meeting someone like Arthur. 

* * *

On Monday morning, Arthur arrives a few minutes early for his regular appointment with Dr. Mitchell at the clinica. At first he’d been a little nervous talking to a man about his problems. In the hospital, he’d been forced to meet with a male doctor, but was then switched to a woman when Arthur refused to open up. Women are easier to talk to. Men always want to be in control. He doesn’t trust them--or he didn’t. Lately he’s found a few guys who seem decent, like Herb, Detective Amenguale, and in particular Anton Little Creek. Anton is the first man he can ever remember touching him without violent intent.

Dr. Mitchell seems like a good guy, too. He’s shorter than Arthur, with a shaved head, a round face, and kind brown eyes. He listens. Really listens.

Arthur tells him almost everything that affects his life. Like Dr. Mitchell says, if he doesn’t talk, then he can’t get help. The only thing he hasn’t mentioned is the possibility of Thomas Wayne being his father. Nicole is right, that it really doesn’t matter. Still, he’s not sure she quite believes him about it. Maybe it is a crazy idea, but it still worries at the back of his mind. At some point he’ll tell Dr. Mitchell. Maybe. The doctor already knows he’s crazy, so why make it even worse?

At the moment, Arthur has more important things on his mind. He hasn’t been able to stop thinking about how well he’d done at Hyena’s this past Saturday. They’ve agreed to give him another spot this coming weekend. With any luck, he’ll get regular stand-up spots from now on.

“That’s a positive thing,” Dr. Mitchell says after Arthur tells him about Hyena’s.

“Yeah.” A faint smile plays around Arthur’s lips, and then it fades. There’s something that’s been bothering him about it, though. He deftly flips a coin between his fingers. He shifts it from hand to hand, equally at ease with his right and left. Being ambidextrous is just another thing that makes him unusual. That’s something he remembers from his murky past, writing instinctively with his left hand only to have teachers force him to use his right. It wasn’t that hard to switch. Still it never made sense to him, why they wanted everyone to use their right hand. 

The coin, cool at first, is now warm against his skin. He’s been using the coin to keep his hands occupied instead of smoking so much. Besides, coin tricks are helpful with his Carnival act.

“Talk to me, Arthur.”

“It’s just that when I become him. . .” He sighs. “It’s hard to explain.”

“When you become him?” Dr. Mitchell prompts.

“I mean, I’m him, but when I put on the paint and those clothes, it’s like I become all the things I’ve ever wanted to be--well, most of them. I’m not rich or anything.”

“You want to be rich?”

Arthur snorts. “Who doesn’t want to be rich? No, I don’t need to be rich, just comfortable, so I don’t have to worry about whether I can pay rent and buy meds, and so I can do nice things for Nicole.”

“From what you said she doesn’t need a lot of material things.”

Arthur meets the doctor’s gaze. “I’d still like to give them to her.”

“That’s understandable. You say your business is doing well.”

“Yes, sir.” Arthur glances at the coin dancing between his fingers. “Better than I ever thought. Now I have the stand-up thing, too. And Nicole. I can’t complain.”

“How are things with your mother? Have you tried encouraging her to do more for herself?”

Arthur casts his gaze down. “Not really. I mean, I’m at Nicole’s more and more, but I can’t just leave my mother.”

“How about outside help?”

“I don’t think she’d like that.”

“It would be an adjustment, but she’ll get used to it.”

“I can’t. Not right now.” Penny has always been there for him. He’ll never abandon her.

“About this new character, you said yourself that he has qualities you want.”

“Oh yes.” Arthur grins.

“You created him, Arthur. Now all you have to do is learn to do what he does, but without the costume.”

Arthur lowers his gaze, nods, and gives a soft laugh. Easier said than done.

After his appointment, he’s on his way out of the clinica. The waiting room is crowded, and a little girl screams and cries in the arms of a frustrated young woman. A couple of other kids see her and whimper, too, while a third tears through the clinic, laughing at the elderly woman hobbling after him. He runs directly into Arthur, tilts his gaze up, and bawls. 

Arthur reaches into his pocket and pulls out his Carnival nose. He had a kid’s party directly before his appointment, so he’s still carrying his clown gear in his plaid bag. He pops the nose on and the boy stops crying and stares, mouth open. Then he laughs.

“Thank you for stopping him,” says the elderly lady. She grasps the boy’s arm. “Come on, Patrick.”

The kid is fascinated by Arthur. 

“Hey, Arthur, if you want to do a freebee, we won’t stop you,” says the frazzled-looking volunteer behind the clinica’s reception desk.

“I’ve got time,” Arthur says.

“I was only kidding. You don’t have to.”

“It’s okay.” He squats down to open his bag. He doesn’t have time to put on full makeup, but that won’t matter. “How about a few magic tricks?”

“It’s okay. He’s a professional clown. He’s been here before,” the volunteer tells the lady with the screaming little girl. The woman looks worried, and Arthur doesn’t blame her. There are so many weird people in Gotham that she’s probably afraid he’s up to something awful.

Arthur puts on his Carnival wig and finds a package of balloons. He blows up several, twists them into different shapes, and passes them out to the kids and even a few adults. It’s a good time for him to practice some new coin and card tricks. 

It doesn’t take long for Arthur to grab the kids’ attention. One by one, they’re seen by the busy doctors, and soon the waiting area is relatively quiet again.

“That is a great talent you have, my friend.” Anton smiles from where he’s paused in the doorway to watch Arthur perform.

“It’s just a little--”

“It’s bringing joy to a place that’s scary for these kids. How are things?” Anton extends his hand and Arthur reaches for it. Anton’s handshake is warm and firm. There’s a calmness in his hazel eyes that Arthur finds comforting.

“Good, Anton. Nicole and I started our own business. I’m doing stand-up comedy now, too.”

Anton smiles. “That’s great. What else?”

“What do you mean?”

“Something is on your mind.”

How does Anton _do_ that? 

“And something burdens your spirit, too. Maybe I can help.”

“I feel like you’re always helping me.”

Anton smiles slightly. “We all have to help each other. You’ve done your share today as well.”

“It wasn’t anything. At least no one was upset about it.”

“Why would they be upset?”

Arthur recalls the time he’d tried to make a curious boy on a bus laugh and the kid’s mother had yelled at him. Maybe she had a point, but he hadn’t meant any harm, and her kid had been in his face. He could have asked her to turn her brat around, but instead he had tried to be kind. Old, bitter feelings rise in him, but he bites them back. Everything is different for him now.

“Tempers are shorter than ever in this city,” Anton says. “It’s hard. Do you have some time? The wellness room is empty right now.”

The wellness room. Arthur has been in there a few times, but just to say hello to Anton. He doesn’t fully understand what goes on in that room. Anton is into what he calls spirituality--things that affect everyone, but can’t be seen by most people. Lots of people seem to think Anton is as crazy as Arthur, but Anton isn’t crazy. He just sees and understands things that most others miss.

Arthur follows Anton to a bright, pleasant room. It has wind chimes, candles, and giant pillows on a carpeted floor. It has a pleasant smell, like flowers and other things Arthur can’t place. 

Anton closes the door.

“What’s happening, Arthur?”

A little laugh escapes Arthur’s throat. “I just came from a session with Dr. Mitchell.”

“He’s a good man. Skilled, but sometimes the mind and the spirit need a different kind of guidance. Your spirit is talking to me right now, and it’s been screaming at you lately. Hasn’t it?”

Once again Arthur finds himself spilling everything to Anton. He tells him about the new character he’s created, and about Thomas Wayne.

“He’s overpowering in a way,” Arthur says, referring to the clown. “But when I’m him, I feel free in a way I’ve never felt before. It’s like he’s everything I’ve always wanted to be, but--” Arthur stops and sighs.

Anton steps closer, his gaze both strong and gentle. “But what?”

“He scares me a little, too. I feel like if anyone messes with me when I’m in that paint and suit, it’s going to be their funeral.”

“Anyone? Even say, me or Nicole?”

Arthur swallows and shakes his head. “Not Nicole. Not ever. And not you, either.”

“Then what are you afraid of, Arthur?”

“I don’t know!”

Anton draws a breath and releases it slowly. “I might be able to help with this, but I won’t lie and tell you it will be easy. It might not be something you’re prepared for. Now or ever, but if you want answers--”

“I do.”

“They’re within you. Everything is within you, Arthur, but you don’t need to push yourself to find it before you’re ready.”

“I like how I feel when I’m him,” Arthur says slowly, deliberately. “I need to know where he’s coming from. I mean, I know, but I can’t be afraid of myself.”

“All right.” Anton rests a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “Lie on floor. Get comfortable.”

A short time later, Arthur is on his back, his head resting on a pillow. Anton lights several candles around him and waves strong-smelling stuff--sage, he says--around the room.

Anton kneels by Arthur’s head. “Close your eyes. Be calm. Listen to my voice. I’m right here with you, Arthur, no matter what happens. All you have to do, is talk to me. I’ll hear you. Whenever you want to stop this, you can. It’s completely up to you.”

“Okay.”

Anton speaks to him softly, and Arthur lets his mind drift. Bits and pieces of his life float around him and then fade. He’s making Penny’s dinner. He’s spinning signs. He’s banging his head against a wall over and over, until he bleeds. He’s in a white room and can’t move his arms. Those images disappear, and he’s getting beaten up again, on a train this time. 

“Anton!”

“I’m right here, Arthur. Are you doing okay?”

“I don’t know. They’re beating me, but it’s not me.”

There’s a gunshot. Then another. The Arthur on the train rises to his feet, the weapon in his hand. 

Now he’s--oh, God, he’s smothering Penny! 

“This can’t be me.”

“Arthur, just listen to my voice. Breathe.”

He’s stabbing Randall and smashing his head against a wall. There’s blood everywhere, but it’s such a fucking relief.

“Breathe, my friend. Slower.”

Is he breathing? Yeah, he’s panting. His heart races.

He’s dying his hair, painting his face. It’s him--the new clown, and he’s completely free. Not free--he knows it’s over. He’s at the end of the line, but he’s going down in a fucking blaze of glory. Everyone sees him, and they’re not going to fuck with him. He’s dancing. Laughing, and it doesn’t hurt. The laughter feels good. 

Arthur is torn between euphoria and terror. Where’s Nicole? Has he done something to her? He’ll die before hurting her. No, even in that state, he could never raise a finger to her in violence. 

Nicole isn’t there. Only hate. Anger. Death. There’s pleasure, too, but only when he takes revenge. There’s no making kids smile at the clinica. No talks with Anton. No planning a life with Nicole. No kisses and hugs.

Fire consumes Gotham. Amidst broken glass and smashed cars, the clown rises, his painted face smeared with blood and sweat. He’s in pain. Bleeding. Broken. But people see him and he’s laughing.

“No way!” Arthur snaps awake. He can hardly breathe and his heart pounds in his ears. He can still smell the smoke and blood. 

He runs for the door, but powerful arms wrap around him from behind.

“Arthur!” Anton speaks firmly.

Arthur struggles hard. Anton is far bigger and stronger, but he grunts with the effort of trying to hold Arthur’s wiry body. Arthur has always been stronger than people think. He almost gets away.

“It’s all right,” Anton says calmly, his muscular arms tightening even more. “You’re safe.”

Finally Arthur stops fighting and stands, panting and sweat-drenched in Anton’s embrace. He closes his eyes and lets Anton support him. It’s almost like being in Nicole’s arms, except there’s no romantic interest between him and Anton. It’s just a feeling of safety. Of complete trust. Of knowing this person gives a shit about him.

“My clown is a killer,” Arthur says softly. “It’s the only way he’s happy.”

“In that reality.”

Anton loosens his hold on Arthur who turns around and stares at him, partly annoyed, partly confused. “What do you mean?”

“There are many paths we can take. Some are influenced by our situation, by our wants and desires, and by the people we meet. There’s an idea that many realities exist in the universe. What you saw was a possible reality, but it doesn’t have to be yours.”

“Nicole wasn’t there. Neither were you.”

“But we’re here now.”

“It could still be me. He felt the same things I do, but he didn’t have anyone. It’s like I was before. His thoughts just got darker and darker. He didn't care about anything anymore.”

“That's not you.” Anton places firm, warm hands on Arthur’s shoulders and stares into his eyes. “In that world, you didn’t have us, and we didn’t have you either. I know that I’m a better person for knowing you, Arthur. I’ve seen your kindness. Your gentleness. I’ve seen you empathize with others. It’s okay to be angry, to acknowledge that you’ve been hurt and probably will be again. We all have pain and joy in our lives. The thing is, you don’t have to become the man you saw. The killer. You have choices, and you have people who care about you.”

Arthur chokes back a laugh.

"Let me tell you something. Not too long ago, a woman broke into the clinica after hours and held me, three doctors, and a severely ill patient hostage."

Arthur doesn't try to hide his surprise.

"You might have have heard about it, or you might not, considering how much crime is in this city."

Truly Arthur doesn't recall hearing about it, and he feels guilty. These people at the clinica have helped him. They're his friends, but he doesn't remember a terrible incident like that happening. It probably blended together with all the other crimes going on in Gotham. Or maybe he's just been so wrapped up in his own loneliness, fear, and desperation that he didn't pay attention. 

He remembers writing in his journal about a man who died in the street, with people walking over him. He feared ending up like that, but maybe he's been just as bad as the people doing the walking. 

"The woman had lost her only child. She wanted revenge on the man she believed allowed a killer to go free--a man whom I know is a good person. There were extenuating circumstances, but when a person is in that much pain, sometimes they're beyond reason."

Arthur nods. "I understand how that feels."

"She shot me."

"What?" Arthur hadn't expected that. Anton is one of the most decent people he's ever met. Why would anyone want to hurt him?

"The pain in her heart and soul was as great as the physical pain she caused me. She needed help, but she was in too much pain to accept it. You're here with me, Arthur. You're with Dr. Mitchell and with Nicole. You're accepting help. You're allowing your spirit to heal. That didn't happen to the man in your vision, but it's happening to you right now."

Anton's words make sense. Still, the feelings from his vision are powerful. That hungry, ruthless clown who laughed and danced while broken and bleeding, who killed gleefully and without hesitation--that clown is him.

"I understand darkness, better than some people might think." Anton rests a warm hand on Arthur's shoulder. "After that incident, my body healed faster than my spirit. I wrestled with darkness. Strong emotions can be difficult, but sometimes they can be wonderful, too."

"Darkness is part of me, I think," Arthur says softly. His throat aches, but he's not sure if he wants to laugh or cry.

"It's part of us all."

"You're saying I don't have to become what I saw."

"Everything happens for a reason. You saw that reality, but your life is already different than the man in that vision. Learn from what you saw, brother, and then let it go,” Anton says gently.

Laughter bubbles up from Arthur's throat. Tears blur his vision. The world he saw isn’t his reality. His life hasn’t been written yet.

When the laughter and tears subside, Arthur lifts his gaze to Anton who smiles gently, understanding in his eyes.

“They’re your choices, Arthur, and you’re not alone.”

“Thank you.” Arthur wipes his face on his sleeve and pushes back his damp hair.

“It’s what I do, my friend.”

“You’re good at it.” Arthur manages a genuine smile. He glances at his watch. “I have to go or I’ll miss the next bus.”

“See you again.”

Nodding, Arthur picks up his bag. He pauses to clean himself up in the bathroom before heading to the bus stop.


	17. Do I Look Like That Kind of Clown?

Arthur has just finished cleaning up after dinner when the phone rings. Slinging a dishtowel over his shoulder, he picks up the receiver.

“Hello?”

“Hey, babe.”

He smiles. It’s funny how hearing Nicole’s voice still makes him feel a little giddy. He wonders if he’ll ever get over that? “Hi, honey. How was work?”

“Pretty good. We got raises today.”

“Nice.”

“How was your day?”

“The gigs went fine, and so did my session with Dr. Mitchell.” He twists the phone cord between his fingers. “I talked to Anton for a while, too.” He decides not to tell her about his glimpse into the alternate reality. Like Anton says, that’s not his world. It might have been, but he’s not that lonely, desperate clown anymore. 

“How is Anton? He’s such a nice guy.”

“Yeah, he’s great. I miss you.”

“I miss you, too. I wish I didn’t have to go to class tonight.”

“You’re leaving soon, right?”

“Yeah. You’re still coming over tomorrow night?”

“Sure. Can’t wait.”

“Happy! Murray is starting!”

“Go ahead.” Nicole chuckles. “You don’t want to miss Murray.”

“I’d rather talk to you, but you can’t miss class.”

“That’s true. Bye, Arthur. I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He closes his eyes and smiles, wrapping his arms around himself and imagining it’s her. 

The phone clicks and he hangs up the receiver. 

“Happy!”

“Be right there, Mom!” He tosses the dish towel onto the counter, turns off the kitchen light, and walks to Penny’s room. He tugs off his shoes and sits on the bed. Murray’s monologue has already started, but Arthur isn’t fully listening. He’s imagining being at the show again. This time he’s not in the audience, but a guest. He’s in his paint and red suit. He looks and feels great. He shakes Murray’s hand, waves to the audience, and blows Nicole a kiss. She’s sitting in the front row, smiling proudly at him.

After the show, Arthur makes sure Penny is covered up. He turns off the light and changes his clothes in the bathroom. It’s been a while since he’s had a cigarette. Thoughts about the vision he’d seen while in Anton’s wellness room turn around in his mind. Sitting at the kitchen table, he pulls out his journal and a pen. Then he lights a cigarette and takes a long drag, closing his eyes for a moment. He releases the smoke slowly and then places the cigarette on the edge of an ashtray. He picks up the pen and writes furiously, recording everything he can remember about the vision. It takes up several pages. When he’s finished, he re-reads it and then he draws a giant X over each page, bearing down so hard that the pen leaves imprints through the entire journal. 

“That’s not me,” he says. “It doesn’t have to be me.”

Chuckling softly, he picks up his cigarette and takes another puff. He leans back in his chair, smoking and grinning. It’s his choice. His future. His clown. 

No matter what, the clown stays. Even in that brutal vision, Arthur liked him. He might be scared of him, but that’s only if he can’t control him--and Arthur _does_ control him. 

* * *

The rest of the week goes well. Arthur books more gigs, and after his stand-up spot at Hyena’s, someone approaches him and asks if he’ll do his act at a bachelorette party. 

He’s surprised by the request, and laughs at first, wondering if it’s a joke.

“So are you available?” asks the young, black-haired woman who’s poured into a silver dress. “It’s my best friend’s sendoff party before she puts on the old ball and chain. It would be so cool to have you there before the strippers.”

Arthur glances at Nicole who’s studying the woman shrewdly. “Am I available?”

“Asking your girlfriend?” The woman smiles. “That’s so sweet!”

“She’s my business manager,” Arthur tells her. “And my girlfriend. She’s the brains. I’m the buffoon.”

The woman laughs and turns her attention to Nicole. “Is he booked for that night, and if he’s not, how much do you guys charge?”

“I’ll check his calendar. Just write your name and phone number, and I’ll give you a call tomorrow.” Nicole pulls a pen and a small notebook from her purse. The woman writes her information. Nicole hands her a Clown Kingdom business card.

The woman strolls off, and Nicole raises her eyes. “Okay, we’re going to charge extra for that. And don’t you dare do anything nasty at that party.”

He bats his eyes at her, smiles, and says, “My whole act is nasty. That’s why it’s so funnay.”

“What I mean, you painted Casanova, is keep your hands and your lips to yourself.”

Placing a hand over his heart, he feigns shock. “Please, sweetheart, do I look like that kind of clown?”

Nicole’s sky blue eyes sweep him and she gestures from his head to his feet. “When you’re like this? Yeah, you look exactly like that kind of clown.” She pretends to adjust the collar of his green shirt as she whispers in his ear, “This act seems to make you horny.”

“Maybe it’s not the act. If you haven’t noticed, I’ve always been horny around you.” He wraps an arm around her waist and kisses her.

A blush stains her cheeks, and he grins. She’s so fucking adorable. Sometimes he still can’t believe she’s his.

“Let’s go back to my place,” she suggests.

He gazes at her through his lashes, takes her hand, and escorts her out of the club.

* * *

Several weeks later, Arthur is not only doing regular daily gigs as Carnival, but he has picked up additional adult parties. He’s gaining quite a reputation as a novelty act, especially at women’s parties. It’s partly because he’s funny, though his type of humor is an acquired taste, but it’s also because his “adult” clown is sexy. Nicole isn’t stupid. She knows that no matter how unusual his comedy routine, he’s not only the prettiest clown in Gotham, but as soon as he puts on that red suit and paint, he develops the ego of a male stripper. To a business manager, it’s a marketable product, but to a girlfriend, it spells danger. Not that she thinks Arthur will cheat, but there’s bound to be at least some temptation. At most of those parties he’s around women younger than her who are drinking and doing who knows what else. Nicole has never been like that. 

Arthur appears more interested in the spotlight than in sex with other women. His nighttime gigs are usually on Fridays and Saturdays, and he meets Nicole right after, so he’s not sticking around to mingle. Still, when he gets to her apartment, usually still in costume because they both enjoy sex when he’s “the” clown, she makes sure there’s no strange lipstick blending with his red paint. It’s silly, and she’s probably acting paranoid, but she can’t help it. The thought of Arthur with another woman hurts to even consider.

With his growing success, running Clown Kingdom is taking more time, and after her class ends, Nicole decides to take some time off before earning her final credits. Between the new business and her day job, she feels a little overwhelmed. Something has to go, or else anxiety will get the better of her. It’s happened before, and she doesn’t want to fall into that spiral again. 

“I feel like I’m stopping you from getting your degree,” Arthur says one night when they’re sitting at the table in her apartment, going over Clown Kingdom’s finances as well as his upcoming schedule.

“It’s not you. Everything is going so well, that me not taking that class is a better option than putting less time into the business. You’re doing great.”

“It’s not just me. I wouldn’t be able to handle all this without you.”

“Looking at this schedule, you’re not going to be able to handle all this without more help than I can give you.” She lifts her gaze to his. “Arthur, I think we should consider hiring another clown or two. We’re doing awesome, but this schedule is a lot. You can’t work day and night. I know you love to perform, but no one wants this much work.”

He’s already booked six days a week, and most weekend nights. They’ve even had to refuse a few jobs due to scheduling conflicts, and Nicole insists that he needs at least one day off a week. 

“Other clowns,” he whispers, and then he grins. “We’re actually doing this.”

Nicole laughs. “We have been doing this, or like I said, you’re doing most of the work.”

“You have two jobs.”

“By the look of the next few months, so do you.”

“Can we actually afford another employee, though? And pay them fairly, I mean. I’m never doing to someone else what Hoyt did to me.”

While Nicole regularly shows him the accounting books, he’s agreed that she should take care of the financial end. She’s better educated and he’s admitted that if he goes through an episode where his meds need adjustment or he’s hospitalized again, he might do something irresponsible with their earnings. He has a bank account to which Nicole makes regular deposits from their business account. Lately there has been more than enough in it for rent, his meds, cost of living, and some money to blow on whatever he wants. He’s admitted that he never really had that before. What little money he had left over from Ha Ha’s after paying for the cost of living was spent on cigarettes or sometimes items for his Carnival act. Nicole is relieved that he’s cut way down on cigarettes, and due to the business, they have a separate budget for his clown supplies. 

“Of course we’re not going to be like Hoyt! Babe, look.” Nicole spreads out pages of information and explains their position. “We can afford another employee. Even better, you’re going to be able to afford private health insurance.”

“What about you?” He holds her gaze.

She furrows her brow. “What do you mean?”

“If we can afford that, then why do you have to work two jobs?”

Truly, Nicole has been considering that, but she doesn’t want to make that change too soon. The business is still new, and she needs some kind of stability if things decline. She wants a little more in the business savings to keep them afloat in case of an emergency, for example if Arthur gets sick. Though she doesn’t like to think about it, he’s been committed before, and while he’s been stable due to medication, therapy, and a routine they’ve built together, there’s always a chance he’ll need another hospital stay sometime in the future. 

“I’ve been thinking about going part time,” she admits. “I haven’t reached out to my supervisor yet, to see if that’s an option.”

“You should.”

“I’ll think about it. In the meantime, we need to start interviewing clowns.”

* * *

“Okay, what do you think?” Arthur stands in the graffiti-covered door of a small, dilapidated building several blocks from his apartment complex. 

It’s a Sunday afternoon--fairly clear for Gotham. He and Nicole are spending the day together, like they usually do on Sundays. 

On the night he and Nicole decided to hire at least one other clown, they had also discussed renting a small office for Clown Kingdom. It’s not a priority, but they like the idea of having a separate location and phone number. Now that he’s doing more and more adult-type shows, they don't want so many random strangers having their personal phone numbers. Truthfully, Arthur doesn’t care so much about his, but he worries about Nicole.

Nicole folds her arms and raises an eyebrow. “I think it needs a wrecking ball.”

“Seriously?”

“Almost.” She approaches and peers in the window.

“Don’t think about it like this. Imagine it cleaned up. Bright paint. Clown Kingdom written on the door.”

“All right. We need to find out about the rent. Though I can’t believe it will be too much.” She wrinkles her nose.

“I already called.” He tells her the cost.

“We could swing that monthly,” she says. “But at this time we need a shorter term lease than that. I’ll have to contact a broker who can help us negotiate.”

“Whatever you say. Do we know one?”

“My dad knows a few from when he was in business. I’ll work on it this week.” She glances at her watch. “We’d better get back to your place. We told your mom we’d only be an hour.”

It's one of those rare times when Arthur has asked Nicole to join him and Penny for lunch. Generally he prefers to keep them apart, but Nicole always tells him that she understands Penny has issues, and she doesn’t take what she says about their relationship--both personal and professional--seriously.

He takes her hand and they walk back to his apartment. Now that his income is higher, he’ll probably be moving out of subsidized housing. He said he’d rather make the move before he’s literally forced to. He’ll have no problem finding a decent place for himself, but he’s also got Penny to consider. Nicole doesn’t even suggest leaving her on her own, because she knows he won’t do that. She wouldn’t leave her parents if they needed help, either, so she understands and accepts his reasons. 

If Penny treated him better, it would be easier to take. It’s not that she yells or blatantly insults him, but it’s the downbeat innuendos about everything positive in his life that trouble her. He’s been kind and attentive to his mother, and he deserves better. Still, Penny is elderly and she’s not right in the head. Anyone can see that, though Nicole sometimes wonders if Arthur fully realizes it. He says he does, but he’s been with her all his life. That’s bound to affect his perception.

Lunch goes fairly well, even if Penny calls her every female name beginning with “N” except her own. Afterward, she and Arthur go back to her house to do his laundry and spend time alone. 

Arthur puts on the radio and tugs Nicole into his arms. “Dance with me.”

Until Arthur, she never danced with anyone. She’s not good at it, and thought she’d never enjoy it, but with Arthur, it’s fun.

She still doesn’t have his rhythm and flow. She probably never will, but he doesn’t seem to care. 

“I just like having you in my arms,” he once told her.

That works, because Nicole likes being there.

A slower song plays and he pulls her even closer. She rests her cheek on his shoulder, feeling its sharpness against her face, soaking in his warmth and inhaling his scent. Closing her eyes, she touches her lips to the side of his neck, feeling his pulse. It quickens and he draws a deep breath.

“Have you ever thought about getting married?” His voice is soft, almost a whisper.

Nicole straightens. They stop dancing and hold each other’s gaze.

“It’s crossed my mind,” she admits. “I can’t imagine a future without you, Arthur.”

“Neither can I--without you, I mean.”

“I don’t think we’re ready just yet, though.”

“No.” He’s still holding her gaze and his hands slide up her back. “Not yet.”

He covers her mouth in a tender kiss that quickly turns passionate. Nicole slides her hand under his shirt, over his pronounced ribs and across his lean chest. A faint dusting of hair tickles her palm. His heart beats steadily beneath it.

“Bedroom?” he says against her lips.

Nicole smiles, takes his hand, and leads the way.


	18. Hey, Guys!

Detective Chano Amenguale steps into the precinct and sniffs the air. “Whew! What is that smell? Nick, are you making fish head soup again?”

Seated at his desk, Detective Nick Yemana glances up from his newspaper. “No. I think it’s Wojo.”

Chano curls his lip. “What are you talking about, man?”

Wojo, covered in filth, strides out of the bathroom, fists clenched, his expression annoyed.

“What happened to you?”

“Don’t even ask.” Wojo approaches Chano who takes a step back.

“Stay over there, man. You’re potent enough.”

“That’s what he gets for chasing some guy through the sewer again,” Yemana says.

“It’s part of the job, and I caught him, didn’t I?”

“You probably caught typhoid fever, too,” Yemana says. 

Captain Miller steps out of his office and makes a face. “Wojo, you’re killing us. Go wash up and change. And burn those clothes. Chano, I want to see you in my office.”

Being called into the captain’s office probably isn’t the best way to start the night--or maybe it’s nothing at all.

He follows the captain into the office. “What’s going on, Barney?”

“One of the guns turned in at a church surrender program a while ago was used in a robbery. We have a good idea who’s responsible, but we want to gather as much information as possible. The gun was turned in by that guy Arthur Fleck. Since you’ve dealt with him before, I’d like you to go talk to him.”

Chano’s brow furrows. While Arthur seems to attract trouble, Chano doesn’t get the feeling that he’ll try to cause it, but he could be wrong. “Do you think he’s involved?”

“No. There’s no evidence to suggest that. We just want to see if he’ll talk to us about where he got the gun or who he got it from. You should head over to his place. See if he’s around. Take Burke with you.”

“Can I take someone else?”

Barney raises an eyebrow. “Why? I didn’t think you had a problem with Burke.”

“It’s not really a problem I have, but when we first talked to Mr. Fleck, Burke said a few things about his medical condition that were a little out of line. I don’t think Fleck will talk freely around him.”

“All right. Take Garrity with you instead.”

“Okay.” Chano leaves Barney’s office. In the squad room, Garrity stands by the file cabinet.

“Hey, Garrity. We have to go see Arthur Fleck about a weapon turned in at the church surrender program.”

Burke pauses in the middle of typing a report and says, “Fleck. Fleck. The guy who laughs. He’s a complete nut job, Garrity.”

“Hey, man, that laughing problem is a real disorder. Remember the doctor at the clinica said it’s called pseudo. . .pseudo-something.”

“Pseudolbulbar affect,” says Detective Harris who has just arrived at work. He shrugs off his immaculate coat, shakes the dirty Gotham mist off it, and hangs it up. “People who suffer from it laugh or cry at inappropriate times.”

Burke curls his lip. “How and why would you know about something like that?” 

“Simple. I’m incredibly well-read. Maybe you should try opening a book once in a while, Burke, and not just the mug book.”

“Ha. Ha. Very funny, Harris.” Burke returns to typing.

Reaching for his jacket, Chano says, “Ready, Garrity?”

“On my way.” Garrity closes the file cabinet, grabs his coat, and follows Chano out of the squad room.

* * *

The broker Nicole calls, who has been recommended by her father, turns out to be a huge help. He personally knows the owner of the office space she and Arthur are interested in renting and is able to negotiate a year-long lease instead of a three-year one with the understanding that Arthur and Nicole will do all the renovations themselves. 

It’s been less than two weeks, and they’re already in. Although it will take a while to clean and paint, they now have a phone installed and new business cards made up with their office number. Nicole’s father, who had been a self-employed contractor before retirement, gives them advice on how to renovate on their own. It’s not a large place--just a small front office with a bathroom and tiny storage room in back that will serve as a dressing room.

Arthur and Nicole start work right away. He cleans and paints in between his daytime gigs. After work at the hospital, Nicole joins him for a couple of hours almost every day. They plan to spend much of the weekend there as well. 

Late Friday afternoon, she’s painting a wall while Arthur adds extra nails to a shelving unit they bought at a second-hand store. Someone knocks on the glass door that now bears the rainbow-colored words _Clown Kingdom_.

Nicole glances up to see a dwarf and a tall, heavyset guy staring in. Arthur also turns. His expression hardens at the sight of the tall guy. Then he sees the dwarf and smiles broadly. He rises from where he’s kneeling on the floor beside the shelving unit. Hammer still in hand, he walks to the door and opens it.

“Hey, guys!”

“Arthur, how are you?” The dwarf smiles.

“Hey, Gary. What are you doing here?”

“We saw your ad in the paper that said you’re hiring. Is the job still open?” 

“Nicole.” Arthur turns and holds out his hand to her. She walks toward him and takes it, after wiping her palms on her worn jeans. “This is Gary and Randall.”

Randall. The piece of shit who gave Arthur the gun and who constantly made fun of him and just about everyone else at Ha Ha’s.

“Gary, it’s nice to finally meet you.” She shakes Gary’s hand. Her smile fades and she stares hard at the taller man. “Randall.”

“Yeah, the job is still open,” Arthur says. “What’s going on? Are you sick of Hoyt?”

“Everybody’s sick of Hoyt,” Randall says. “We heard you’re doing real well for yourself, Art.”

“We’re doing good. Yeah.” Arthur places an arm around Nicole. She glances at him and moves closer to his side. He’s always affectionate, but she knows this is partly to show off to his former co-workers, and that’s fine with her. 

“I have a couple of applications.” Nicole walks to the nearby desk and finds the paperwork. She hands one to Gary and the other to Randall. “Just fill these out. Arthur is already familiar with your work, so that’s a plus.”

“Thanks.” Randall tosses Arthur a knowing grin. “We figured we’d come down here and apply, seeing how you’re my boy and all.”

Arthur’s smile stiffens.

“His boy?” Nicole curls her lip.

“Yeah, didn’t Arthur ever tell you how I used to look out for him?”

“No.” Nicole stares hard at Randall.

“Now that he’s doing so good, we figured he’d look out for us, too.”

Gary’s brow furrows and he glances up at Randall. “That’s not it. I’m glad you’re doing well, Arthur. Hoyt isn’t fair to anyone, but he was a real asshole to you. Job or not, I’m glad this has worked out for you.”

“Thanks, Gary.” Arthur’s expression softens a bit.

“Hang on a minute,” Nicole says and tugs Arthur aside. She whispers, “Do you want to hire Gary?”

“Yeah. He’s a good worker. Randall, no way. I don’t want him here.”

“You bet no way. I can’t believe he even had the nerve to come here.”

They walk back to the others and Nicole says, “Gary, if you want the job, it’s yours.”

“What about me?” Randall asks.

“I’m sorry, but right now we have just one opening.”

Randall scoffs, “Art, if you didn’t want to hire regular sized people, you should have said so in your ad.”

Arthur laughs--that shrill, raptor-like sound she’s never heard outside of his red-suited clown persona. Her stomach clenches at the sight of his rigid grin combined with a dangerous look in his eyes that's so unlike Arthur that it frightens her. He switches the hammer from his right hand to his left and grips it so hard that his knuckles turn white. 

Something tells her that Randall had better get out of Arthur’s sight. Fast.

“Sorry, Randall. We’ll keep you in mind if another opportunity opens up. Right now we’re busy, so if you’ll excuse us.” Nicole opens the door.

“Yeah. Sure.” Randall sighs and heads out. “You coming, Gary?”

“Do you have just one second?” Nicole asks their new hire.

“Yeah. Be right there, Randall.”

Once Randall disappears behind the closed door, Nicole says, “Just fill out the application as a formality so I can process the paperwork and get you on payroll.”

Arthur’s grip loosens on the hammer and this time his grin is genuine. “It will be almost like old times, except no Hoyt.”

Gary smiles. “That works for me.”

“When can you start?” Nicole asks.

“Monday, if that’s not too soon.”

“Excellent. See you on Monday, Gary. It’s nice to meet you.” 

“You, too, Nicole. See you, Arthur. And thanks.”

“You know, Gary, until I met Nicole, you were the only one who was ever nice to me.”

Gary reaches out to amicably pat Arthur’s wrist before he leaves.

“Well, our first employee.” Nicole smiles. “Sometimes I can’t believe this is happening.”

Arthur laughs softly and places his hands on her waist. “I’m glad you said that because sometimes _I_ can’t believe this is happening.”

She slips her arms around his neck and kisses him.

“Randall is a real prick, isn’t he?”

“Yeah.” Arthur’s expression hardens again. “You have no idea.”

“Arthur?”

“Yeah?”

She nearly asks what had been going through his mind when just moments ago he seemed to become his clown, but without the costume. Maybe it’s better to leave it alone. It’s been established that the clown has qualities Arthur wants--confidence, whit, a certain strength and appeal. He said the doctor told him he just has to figure out how to do it without the costume. If only something good instead of that asshole Randall had drawn out those things.

Yet when she’s with Arthur, especially when they make love, he’s become quite confident, and about other things, too. She’s not going to worry too much about this incident. After all, Randall pissed her off, too.

“Are you almost done with those shelves?”

“Yeah. It just needs a couple more nails.” He walks away to resume work.

It’s getting dark and soon her father arrives with a trunk load of supplies he had gone to buy at the hardware store. Once they’re unloaded, they lock up for the evening. 

Nicole’s father heads for Arthur’s apartment complex to drop him off before he and Nicole go home. An ambulance is parked outside the building. EMTs bring someone on a gurney toward it.

“Oh my God! It’s my mom.” Arthur jumps out of the car before it comes to a complete stop.

“Holy shit,” Nicole’s father says, parking quickly. 

He and Nicole hurry toward the scene. Detective Amenguale is also there along with an older man--probably a cop, too.

Arthur stares worriedly at an unconscious Penny whose face is covered in an oxygen mask. 

“You’re her son?” an EMT says. “Ride with us. Maybe you can answer a few questions.”

“We’ll meet you at the hospital.” Nicole squeezes Arthur’s hand briefly. He glances at her, his face drawn, and then he climbs into the ambulance.

“What happened?” Nicole asks Detective Amenguale. 

“Nicole, this is Detective Garrity. We came here to ask Arthur a few questions, but his mother got hysterical. She couldn’t breathe, so we called for an ambulance.”

Nicole’s stomach clenches and fear washes over her. “Why do you have to talk to Arthur? Is he in trouble?”

“Nothing like that,” Detective Amenguale assures her. 

“I have to get to the hospital,” Nicole says.

Arthur must be beside himself, and now they have the cops to worry about, because no matter what Detective Amenguale says, when the police want to talk to you, it can’t be good.


	19. Joker

During the ambulance ride to the hospital, Arthur tries to hold himself together. He does his best to answer the EMTs’ questions about Penny’s general health, but he hadn’t been there when she’d collapsed, so he has no idea what happened. Why were the cops at his place? Is he in some kind of trouble? He hasn’t done anything wrong. Maybe they weren’t there for him at all. Had someone tried to break into their apartment while he was out? No. The police rarely come fast to any calls in his part of town.

They finally arrive at the hospital, and Penny is taken inside for care. Arthur waits outside. He needs a smoke. Where is Nicole? He’s never had anyone to depend on before now, and he really needs her.

He sits on the bench outside the ER and smokes.

“Arthur.” Nicole sits beside him and he turns sharply to her.

He’d been so lost in thought that he hadn’t seen her and Herb approach.

“Have you heard anything about how she’s doing?” Nicole asks.

“Not yet. She just went in. I think. I don’t know how long it’s been exactly.”

“Well, it can’t be too long.” Herb shoves his hands into his pockets and glances around. “We didn’t hit too much traffic on the way here, so it’s been less than twenty minutes.”

Arthur takes a long drag on his cigarette before squashing it beneath his shoe. He turns his head to avoid blowing smoke at Nicole and sees the detectives striding toward them. Fuck. Just what he needs. At least maybe he can find out what happened to Penny.

“Hey, Arthur, sorry about your mother, man,” Detective Amenguale says.

“What happened?” Arthur glares at them. “What did you say to her?”

“Nothing.” Detective Garrity shrugs. “We just said we have a few questions for you and she lost it.”

Arthur glances down, trying to regulate his breathing. That sounds like Penny. The cops are probably telling the truth. He knows how she panics sometimes. If she thought Arthur was in trouble and might be taken away from her again, she would definitely lose it.

He lifts his gaze to the detectives. “Questions about what?”

“The gun you turned in at the church,” Amenguale says. “Can you give us any information about where you got it?”

“A guy at work gave it to me for protection after I got beat up. Remember that day at the clinica?”

“Yes, I remember. So he just gave it to you?”

“Yeah. I didn’t do anything with it.”

“When he told me about it, I suggested going to the church to surrender it,” Nicole says.

“All right. Arthur, will you tell us the name of the guy who gave it to you and any contact information you might have. Also, when was the last time you saw him?”

“This afternoon.” 

Detective Amenguale raises an eyebrow. “This afternoon?”

“Yes. He came to fill out an application at our clown agency,” Nicole says. “He hasn’t filled it out yet, and probably won't because we pretty much told him we aren't hiring anyone else right now. If he does turn it in, though, we’ll give it to you.”

“Thank you. Now, if you could just answer a few more questions.”

Arthur tells the detectives everything he knows about Randall, which isn’t much. The detectives don’t have a lot of information to give them about the gun, except that it was used in a robbery. Arthur fears that he’ll somehow get in trouble, but the detectives assure him their only interest is in the robbery.

After the detectives leave, Arthur turns to Nicole. “I’d better go back in.”

“I’ll go with you.” She glances at her father. “You can leave me here. There’s no reason for you to hang around.”

“You two will be okay?”

“Yeah, Dad.”

“Call me when you want to come home and I’ll pick you up.”

“Thank you.”

Arthur lifts his gaze. “Thanks, Herb.”

“No problem. Take care, Arthur.”

Nicole’s father walks to the parking lot, leaving them alone. Arthur nearly tells Nicole to go with him, that she shouldn’t waste her time here, but he needs her more than he wants to admit. He considers smoking another cigarette. Then he changes his mind.

They rise and he takes her hand on the way inside.

* * *

  
Sitting beside Arthur in Penny’s hospital room, Nicole rests her head against his shoulder and her hand on his thigh, stroking it in a comforting manner. She’s thankful that he’d surrendered the gun. It would have been awful if Arthur had kept it.

She hates Randall, especially now that she’s met him. She can only imagine how it had been for Arthur, working with that nasty gorilla. After just moments with Randall, she could see that he thought Arthur was stupid. A patsy. When Randall gave him that gun, Arthur had been in a bad place, having been beaten, his medication messed up, and no one to help him in any way. Being with Arthur, she’s learned that while he often has unconventional views and thought patterns, he’s not stupid. He knows when someone is trying to fuck him over, and she’s certain of one thing--he loathes Randall.

She lifts her head and rubs a kink in her neck. They’ve been there for a few hours. It's turned out that Penny had a stroke. They’re still not sure what the effects will be, and she’s been unconscious since before the ambulance arrived.

Arthur sits, staring at Penny, his expression far-off. She studies his profile, the lines on his face, the slow blink of his eyes, long lashes casting shadows on his pale skin.

Nicole had a snack from the vending machine earlier, but Arthur hasn’t had a thing.

“I’m going to get something to drink,” Nicole says. “And maybe another snack. Do you want something?”

“Yeah,” he says absently. 

She wraps an arm around him and kisses his cheek. He turns to her and smiles slightly.

“Thanks for being here,” he says softly.

“I want to be, and you’d do it for me.” She’s sure about that.

Grabbing her purse, Nicole walks down the hall. She stops in the rest room. Catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror, she shakes her head. She’s still in her old, paint-stained clothes from this afternoon. Her hair is a mess and she’s almost as pale as Arthur. It’s because they missed dinner. She definitely needs another snack. Maybe she’ll go to the cafeteria and get a real meal instead of vending machine crap. 

She decides to stop by the room again, to see what Arthur wants at the caf. He’s still sitting near Penny’s bed, holding her hand, his gaze fixed on the television. It’s the Murray Franklin Show. His and Penny’s favorite. A bittersweet pang darts through Nicole and she lingers in the doorway.

Murray talks about a local comedy act that he apparently thinks is pretty horrible. 

Nicole’s heart nearly stops.

Arthur is on screen, stumbling through his act at Pogo’s. 

“Oh my God.” Arthur jumps to his feet. Nicole approaches, unsure of what to say, but Arthur is laughing a little. He doesn’t get it yet, that he’s being mocked on national television.

Murray makes his usual smartass comments, and then he plays another clip of Arthur only to ridicule him again.

Arthur’s smile fades, replaced by a look Nicole can’t completely explain--shame. Hurt. But it’s the anger that disturbs her most. A quiet, deep anger, almost the same as when he’d looked at Randall that afternoon. That dangerous look.

“He’s an asshole,” Nicole says.

Arthur swallows visibly and lowers his gaze.

“That’s not you anymore,” she reminds him. “It’s not your act. People pay you now because you’re good. Don’t forget that.”

“Joker,” he whispers.

“What?”

“Didn’t you hear?” He lifts his gaze to hers. “He called me a joker.”

“Like I said, he’s an asshole.”

“What if I am?”

“Arthur, please don’t let this guy take away everything you’ve built for yourself. Murray Franklin doesn’t mean anything. This is one show. Now it’s over. People won’t even remember it, but lots of people know the real you. They hire Carnival and your clow--”

“Joker.” He looks thoughtful now. Shrewd, even. That’s a word generally not applied to Arthur, unless he’s the red-suited clown. That side of him can be as cunning as a proverbial fox. She’s seen it.

“Arthur, forget it.”

“I don’t want to. Don’t you get it, Nicole?”

She’s confused and maybe a little worried. “Get what?”

“I’ve been looking for a name for him. Murray is brilliant as always. An asshole, yeah, but brilliant.”

“Joker.” Nicole smiles slightly. Yes. She gets it, mostly because it is the perfect name--not for Arthur Fleck, wannabe comedian having a breakdown on open mic night, but for the painted wolf. The beautiful clown with a sick sense of humor and a swagger like an classic movie gangster. 

Arthur holds her gaze, the beginning of Joker’s wicked smile on his lips. 

“I get it,” she says. “And it fits.”

He sits down again, his legs spread, his elbows resting on his bony knees.

“I’m going to grab some food in caf. Do you want something?”

“Just coffee. Thanks.”

Nicole nods. She get his coffee, diet soda for herself, and an order of mac and cheese. Arthur eats some of it with her, and they stay until visiting hours end.

“I’ll wait while you call your dad,” he says.

“Do you want to come back to my place?”

Arthur looks at her with longing, and then he shakes his head. “I think I’d like to go back to my place tonight.”

“I’ll stay with you.”

At least she doesn’t have to work tomorrow. She’s gone to part time hours at the Holt Neuro, anyway, and now works there just three days a week so that she can devote more time to Clown Kingdom. Unlike most employers, Holt Neuro offers medical benefits to part timers as well, so while Nicole has to pay a little more out of each check, she still has medical coverage. 

They’re working on a medical plan for Clown Kingdom. Such coverage for a small business is super expensive, but they’re almost at the point where they can afford it.

“You will?” Arthur sounds uncertain. Sometimes it’s as if he still can’t believe he has people in his life to support him.

“Of course.” Nicole stops at a payphone to let her parents know she’ll be at Arthur’s, and then they take the bus to his apartment complex. He’s quiet on the way there, and she can almost see thoughts spinning around his head. It’s understandable. He’s worried about Penny, and even though he’s decided to use Murray’s flop-shaming segment in a positive way, it must still upset him.

In his apartment, Nicole takes a bath. She always carries a travel toothbrush and dental floss, but she borrows Arthur’s deodorant. She’s drying off when he knocks on the door.

“You can come in,” she says.

He opens the door and looks almost shy, even though they’ve slept together lots of times. There’s still something intimate about entering the room when someone is bathing.

“Here’s some clothes you can sleep in,” he says. “I’ll go down and wash yours, if you want.”

“It’s okay. You must be tired, too. I’ll just wear the same jeans tomorrow and borrow a shirt from you until I go home to change.”

“Okay.” Before leaving, he takes a step toward her and kisses her mouth. “I love you.”

She smiles. “I love you, too.”

After he leaves, she finishes drying off and then she pulls on the sweatpants and T-shirt he brought for her. He’s a few inches taller than her, so the sleeves and legs are a little long, but he’s definitely slimmer than she is, so they fit well other than that. He’s brought her socks--also too big. She grins. There’s something nice about wearing his clothes. The scent of the fabric reminds her of him. 

After draining the tub and then refilling it for him, she finds him sitting at the table, writing furiously in his journal. He finishes, and then he looks up at her.

“You look cute in my clothes,” he says.

“Oh right.”

“You do.”

“Go take a bath.” She grins and waves her hand.

A short time later, they’re lying in Penny’s bed, which feels incredibly weird. Arthur changed the sheets, but there’s still something that doesn’t feel right. Nicole knows Penny doesn’t want her around at all, let alone in her bed.

“You know, I’ve been thinking,” Arthur says. They’re lying on their sides, facing each other in the dark. A few red and blue streaks from neon signs across the street cut across Arthur’s angular face.

“About what?” she asks softly.

“Mom and Thomas Wayne.”

“Arthur--”

“No, just hear this. Say what she told me is true, and he’s been ignoring her all this time. And I haven’t been mailing her letters for weeks, so even if he changed his mind--”

“He’s not going to change his mind because even if what she said is true, he doesn’t care. He _doesn’t_ , Arthur.”

“I at least owe it to her to try to see him. I mean, maybe she’s going to. . .this might be it for her.”

“You don’t owe either of them anything.”

“I still think I should at least try to talk to him.”

“It’s a bad idea. Whatever the truth is, it’s a bad idea.”

He lowers his lashes and sighs. “Maybe you’re right. Who knows?”

“Just try to get some sleep.”

He nods and edges closer to her. Nicole turns, letting him spoon her. She’s tired, too. With so many changes lately, such as renting space for Clown Kingdom, hiring help, and now all this with Penny, her anxiety has been harder to control. Right now she just wants to sleep. 

A short time later, she drifts off, snug in Arthur’s arms.


	20. The Refrigerator

In the morning, Arthur and Nicole return to the hospital, but Penny’s condition hasn't changed. Nicole's father picks her up about an hour later, and soon after, Arthur goes to his gig at the children’s hospital. Yesterday Nicole had asked if he wanted her to cancel it, but Arthur decided to keep it. The children’s hospital isn’t far from where Penny is, so afterward he checks on her again. He’s surprised when Nicole meets him there. Usually she won’t take the bus unless he’s with her, but she’s been more relaxed with public transportation lately. It makes him happy that he might be part of the reason. She’s supported him in so many ways, that it’s nice to know he helps her, too.

She greets him with a hug and kiss. “How’s it going?”

“The nurse said she woke up a little, but not since I’ve been here.” Holding Nicole’s hand, he glances at Penny.

It wasn’t easy playing Carnival today, acting happy and silly for the kids. His thoughts were on Penny and even Thomas Wayne. Nicole is probably right about him, but Arthur still feels he should at least make an attempt to meet the man he believes is his father. Penny believes it. He’s sure of that. 

There’s an event tonight at Wayne Hall, and Thomas will be there. It might be Arthur’s chance to finally meet him. There’s also going to be a rally outside the hall. The clown crusaders are still protesting, demanding that Thomas Wayne either step down from the election or rethink his politics. They’re right--at least Arthur thinks they’re right. Thomas Wayne always talks about helping the poor by motivating them to help themselves. What Thomas Wayne doesn’t seem to understand is that it’s not so easy for a lot of people, and it’s impossible for some. Maybe he just needs to listen. He might not be such a bad guy. To Penny, he’s practically a living god. She worked for him for a long time, so she must know something about him as a person. Unless Arthur meets him, he’ll never know for sure.

“Arthur?” Nicole asks. “Did you hear me?”

His gaze shifts to Nicole. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. You have a lot on your mind. I’m just reminding you that you have a bachelor party tonight--guys for once--but if you don’t want to do it--”

“No. It’s fine.”

Nicole cups his face. “I think we should cancel and give them a refund. This isn’t a good time for you.”

“I’ll be there.” 

Nicole nods. “Okay. Have you eaten lunch?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You really should--”

“Nicole! I’m not hungry.” He can’t keep the annoyance from his voice. Sometimes she treats him like a child. Fuck, he sounds ungrateful. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m going to the office for a while. My parents are meeting me there to finish some of the work.”

“I’ll go, too.”

“If you want.”

He spends a few hours at Clown Kingdom, and then he leaves in time to dress at his apartment for the bachelor party. He’s about to get off the bus in front of his building, but instead stays on. Maybe he can make it to Wayne Hall before his gig. He’ll be cutting it close, but he has to see Thomas Wayne or else he’ll never be able to forget about him.

* * *

Nicole is about to lock up Clown Kingdom for the night. Her parents are waiting outside in their car. They’re going to drop her off at Arthur’s because she’s spending the night there again.

The phone rings, and she considers walking out without answering, but picks it up instead. “Clown Kingdom.”

Nicole’s heart palpitates. It’s the person who coordinated the bachelor party. He wants to know where Arthur is. He was supposed to be there half an hour ago.

After hanging up, she immediately calls his apartment. The answering machine picks up.

“Arthur, it’s Nicole. If you’re there, please answer the phone.”

Nothing.

 _Shit. Don’t panic_ , she tells herself, though she’s already shaking. He’s probably fine. Maybe he missed his bus or something.

She hurries to the car and explains to her parents that Arthur isn’t at his gig. They drive to the address, staring at the darkening sidewalks, hoping to see a skinny clown in a red suit.

“Maybe he’s at his apartment,” her mother suggests.

They drive there and Nicole enters with the key Arthur has given her--Penny’s copy.

She’s so terrified that she even takes the elevator--not that it gets her there much faster than the stairs. Hunk of junk.

She runs to his apartment and opens the door. “Arthur? Are you here?”

“Nicole?”

He’s in the kitchen, his back to her. The meager contents of the refrigerator, including the shelves, are scattered across the kitchen floor.

“What the hell?” She glances around and then strides toward him, grasping his arm.

He turns, wearing his clown nose. His eyes are puffy and watery, as if he’s been laughing or crying.

“You missed the gig tonight. What’s going on?”

He knits his brows, his expression almost angry. “You’re starting to sound like Hoyt.”

“Well maybe I’m starting to understand why he was such a hardass. You didn’t show up at the gig. You didn’t call them or me or--”

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a grown-up. You’re not my mother.”

“If you want to go there, Arthur Fleck, I’ll give you an earful about why I’m acting like your mother!”

“I missed the gig. There’s nothing I can do about it now. Get over it.”

“Take off that stupid nose when you’re fighting with me!” She reaches out to pull it off. 

“Ow!” He covers his nose with his hand, but not before she sees that it’s swollen with dried blood beneath.

Her anger fades to concern again. “What happened?”

“Forget it. I’m sorry about the gig. I’ll call them back and explain that I had an accident or something like that.”

“What accident?”

“It wasn’t an accident.” He shakes his head. “You were right about him, Nicole. Thomas Wayne.”

She freezes. “You didn’t go see him?”

“I did. We talked. He says he’s not my father and that Penny adopted me, which has to be bullshit. I think.”

“Your nose, Arthur?”

“He sucker punched me.”

“Why?”

“Because I told him I think he’s my father. I started laughing. Couldn’t stop. I guess he thought a punch in the face would help.”

So many emotions nearly overcome Nicole. Frustration at Arthur for going to see Wayne. Anger at Wayne for being so nasty to Arthur, yet why would he be anything except that? Even in public he’s an arrogant prick. He’s bound to be worse in private. Most of all, she feels sad that Arthur has been hurt again and that he’s still desperate for a decent parental figure. 

“Did you put ice on your nose?”

“Yeah.”

She glances around at the kitchen. “What’s all this stuff doing on the floor?”

“It seemed like a good idea. Then I thought about you and changed my mind. I wouldn’t want to come home and find you like that.”

“Like what?” she asks carefully. He’s starting to frighten her.

“Stupid.” He picks up the refrigerator shelves and puts them back.

“Maybe you should call Dr. Mitchell?” She collects the food from the floor and places it back in the fridge.

“I don’t need him. I’m okay.”

“Why did you take the stuff out of the fridge?”

“I thought about getting in there for a while, okay?”

“Arthur!”

“I didn’t do it.”

The thought of finding him dead in the refrigerator is almost too much for her to handle. “What if you couldn’t get out?”

“It was just a thought.”

“What other possibly suicidal thoughts have you been having lately?”

“You sound like my old social worker. _Are you having negative thoughts?_ ” he says in a falsetto. 

“Well are you?” Nicole demands, throwing her hands in the air. “What am I saying? He almost climbed in to a refrigerator.”

“Can we just forget tonight even happened?”

“No. I don’t think we should until we discuss it.”

“I’m done discussing it right now. On Monday I’m going to Arkham to see if I can get my mother’s file. Maybe I’ll get the truth that way.”

“What truth?”

“Whether I’m adopted. If she was really even in Arkham. Thomas Wayne said she was.”

“Maybe he’s lying.” Though Nicole doesn’t think so. If anyone belongs in Arkham, it’s Penny Fleck. “Either way, I’m telling you again, trying to find out is a bad idea. Can’t you just move on?”

He stares at her, hurt shining in his eyes. “I thought _you’d_ understand at least.”

“I do, but I know that no matter what happens, you’re going to get hurt.”

“Don’t I have a right to know where I come from?”

Her anger disappears completely. He’s right. Whether for emotional or even medical reasons, he has a right to know.

“Yes. You do.” She steps closer to him and hugs him.

He tightens his arms around her and sighs. “I’m sorry I missed the gig.”

“Forget the gig. I’ll call them back and offer a refund. If you want to go to Arkham on Monday, I’ll go with you.”

“You’d do that?” He holds her at arm’s length and furrows his brow.

“As long as you don’t feel like I’m trying to intrude. I’m not trying to act like your mother or anything like that.”

He casts his gaze down, looking contrite. “I’m sorry for saying that, too.”

“And I’m sorry if I came in here yelling at you. I was worried. That’s why.”

“I know. I should have told you, but I didn’t actually plan to see him. I just went. I thought I could stop at Wayne Hall and still make it to the gig. After he hit me, I just--I fucked up.”

“It’s okay.” She hugs him again, and then she walks to the phone to call about the missed gig and offer a refund. She’s pleased by the customer’s suggestion. “Hey, Arthur. They say if you perform at the wedding instead, they’ll call it even. Does that work for you?”

He looks surprised. “Yeah.”

After recording the date of the wedding, she goes outside to tell her parents that Arthur is upstairs and had a little accident on the way the gig, but he’s fine. When she returns to his apartment, they both tumble into bed and fall asleep watching a movie.

The next morning, Arthur joins Nicole for a jog. He’s been doing that lately, when their schedules don’t conflict. He’s actually a better runner than she is--faster. He jokes that it’s because he’s had so much experience running for his life.

When they get back to his apartment, he kicks off his sneakers and socks, pulls off his T-shirt, and tosses it onto a chair. He lounges on the couch, his long, thin legs spread, his heels bouncing to some rhythm in his head. He leans back and runs his hands through his damp hair. Muscles flex in his wiry arms. Beads of sweat trail from his throat down the center of his lean chest. He’s still quite thin, but not as much as when they’d first met. Cutting back on smoking, eating more, and feeling better in general have helped him physically as well as emotionally. She’s so worried that these recent issues with Penny and Thomas Wayne will set him back, but whatever happens, they’ll deal with it.

“I’m taking a bath,” Nicole says.

“I’ll take one after you.”

“We could share it,” she suggests softly, her heartbeat quickening. 

His legs stop bouncing and he straightens, his blue-green gaze smoldering. A slow grin spreads across his face. He stands and walks toward her.

“Oh.” Nicole’s belly tightens as he backs her into the bathroom. 

Taking her face in his hands, he kisses her, kicking the door shut. He grasps her waist and spins her slowly to press her against the closed door, his mouth still devouring hers.

Nicole closes her eyes and moans softly, grasping handfuls of his thick, damp hair. When the kiss breaks, he smiles at her again in a way that sends her libido into overdrive. It’s Joker’s expression without the paint, and she’s already so turned-on that she’s ready to dive on him. His hardness pushes against her through their clothes. 

At the same time she reaches down to slide her hand into his sweatpants, he pushes his hand inside her underwear. By now he knows exactly how she loves to be touched, and he wastes no time rubbing and stroking her sensitive flesh until she’s on the verge of exploding. All the while, she’s stroking him, too, feeling him warm, velvety, and rock hard in her hand.

He slides his hand out of her underwear and gently removes her hand from his sweatpants. Still wearing his sly smile, he turns to run the water in the tub while Nicole quickly sheds her clothes. Arthur pulls off his sweatpants and reaches for the condoms that have been resting on the bathroom shelf since Penny has been in the hospital. He rolls one on and Nicole stands close behind him, caressing his back and pressing kisses along his prominent spine.

He turns quickly and backs her against the door again. She gasps and clings to him as he takes her. Closing her eyes, she runs her hand over every part of him she can reach while he groans and nuzzles her neck, fondles her breasts, and claims her with confident, hungry strokes that hurl her into ecstasy. Somewhere beyond her own pleasure, she feels him reach his climax. 

They lean heavily against the door, their quivering bodies wet and satisfied. Her feet are really, really wet.

“Arthur, the tub!” 

“Oh, shit!” He turns away from her and slides across the wet floor to turn off the overflowing water. 

Nicole reaches for towels. “So much for the bath.”

“I’ll get a mop.”

“Sorry about this.”

He cups her face, a playful look in his eyes. “Don’t ever apologize for a great fuck.”

“You are _so_ bad.”

“So bad I’m good.”


	21. The Penny Fleck File

On Sunday morning, after spending a couple of hours at the hospital with Penny, Nicole and Arthur return to his apartment. Neither feel very motivated, so they flop into bed to watch a movie. Nicole changes into an oversized sleep shirt, and Arthur lies down fully clothed. It’s not long before they forget about the movie and focus completely on each other. 

It begins with her curling up to him. He kisses her hair and strokes her arm. Then his hand strays to her inner thigh.

Smiling slightly, Nicole kisses the side of his neck while unzipping his pants. 

“Hold on,” he says, sitting up to remove his pants and toss them aside. He stretches out alongside her again, wearing socks, underwear, and his red sweater. 

“Better,” Nicole murmurs before he rolls on top of her and kisses her mouth. Closing her eyes, she parts her lips and enjoys the deepening kiss. 

She slides her hands under his sweater to caress his back, relishing the sensation of his warm skin, ridges of bone, and tense back muscles. Moaning softly, she strokes lower and slips her hands past the waistband of his briefs.

Laughter--his real laughter--bubbles in his throat and he rolls onto his back, taking her with him so that she’s now sprawled on top of him.

They kiss and caress each other, slowing and speeding their movements as they desire. Nicole reaches into the front of his underwear to fondle him.

“That feels good,” he whispers against her lips.

“Yeah. It does.” She kisses him again just as the phone rings.

They let the machine pick up. “Hello. This message is for Arthur Fleck. My name is Shirley Woods. I’m with the Murray Franklin Show. I’m not sure if--"

Arthur stares at Nicole. “Did you just hear that? Did she say Murray Franklin?”

“Yeah.”

“Should I answer it?” Arthur asks, but before Nicole can reply, he’s already out of bed and heading for the phone.

“Glad I could be of help,” Nicole says with a hint of sarcasm, but follows him to the kitchen where he’s already engaged in conversation with the person on the other line.

“Murray wants me on the Murray Franklin show?” He looks as perplexed as Nicole feels. “Next Thursday night?”

“Arthur, what’s going on?” Nicole whispers.

“Here. Talk to my business manager.” He holds the receiver out to Nicole.

She panics momentarily. This has to be a prank call. She grabs the phone from him, her brow furrowed. “Hi. How may I help you?”

The woman explains that since Murray played the clip of Arthur’s Pogo’s performance, they’ve had a lot of calls from viewers. Murray would like to have Arthur on the show next Thursday.

Nicole feels a little sick and downright furious. They’ve already made fun of Arthur once. Now they want to do it again with him there live. 

He’s staring at her, his expression both resigned and hopeful. He knows as well as she does what they want to do, but being on the Murray Franklin Show has been a lifelong fantasy for him.

“We’ll have to get back to you about it,” Nicole says. The woman leaves her a phone number, and then Nicole hangs up.

“What do you think?” Arthur asks.

“It’s not really about me, Arthur. You saw what they did. Do you want to face that on live television?”

He lowers his gaze and remains still for a few minutes, save the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes and the pulse throbbing in the side of his neck. Finally, he looks up at her. She’s seen that expression in his eyes before.

“I don’t want to face it,” Arthur says. “But Joker does.”

This makes Nicole a little uncomfortable. Then she realizes his idea might be used to their advantage. Still, if Arthur goes on, even as Joker, and he can’t handle it, it won’t be worth it. He’s doing really well. They both are, but he’s the main reason the business is becoming successful. Maybe that’s enough. She cares more about him than about the business or anything else. He’s been hurt so much in his life already. Why ask for more?

“I want to do this,” he says. She’s also heard that tone before. It means no matter what she says, he’s going to do what he wants.

“Arthur, you don’t have to prove anything to anybody.”

“No, but like you keep saying, I’m not that guy who fucked up at Pogo’s anymore. If all of Gotham is going to see me, then they need to see the real me. The person I am now. Besides, won’t it be good for business? The least we can get out of it is a free plug for Clown Kingdom.”

Nicole smiles and studies him carefully. “When did you become a businessman?”

He shrugs, feigning a huffy look and gazing at her through his lashes. “I’ve been watching you. Listening. You’re a good teacher.”

“So are you.” Nicole hugs him.

He wraps his arms around her, holding her close.

* * *

  
On Monday morning, Arthur surprises Nicole by changing his mind about trying to retrieve Penny’s file from Arkham. He admits that she’s probably right about the hospital not turning over Penny’s file due to privacy. She’s also right that he’s come this far without knowing the truth, so it won’t change things between him and Penny, or him and Thomas Wayne. Right now he needs to work toward his future--one he’s going to share with Nicole.

They take the bus to the hospital to check on Penny, and then they go to Nicole’s house. When they arrive, she looks around her apartment.

“I really need to clean this place and do laundry,” she says.

“Do you want me to stay around and help, or I can go finish cleaning up Clown Kingdom?”

“If you want to go to the office and do some work on the dressing room, I’ll meet you there in a couple of hours.”

Arthur kisses her goodbye, and then he takes another bus to Clown Kingdom. He pauses a moment to look at the sign on the door, still unable to fully believe that he and Nicole are in business together and succeeding. Is it possible he has a little of Thomas Wayne’s business sense after all? 

Arthur chuckles. No way. The business end is all Nicole. 

If Thomas Wayne _is_ his father, then only thing he got from him was a bloody nose.

Still, Arthur can’t stop thinking about the things Wayne said about his mother and about him being adopted. He tries to bury himself in cleaning and arranging the dressing room, but before long, he’s obsessing about what Penny’s Arkham file might contain. He has to see it, or at least try to.

He should wait for Nicole, though. She said she wanted to go with him, but does she really? Upset didn't begin to cover how she'd been when he’d gone to meet Thomas Wayne. Going to Arkham for the file is bound to make her uncomfortable, and he doesn’t want to do that. Besides, he doesn’t really _need_ her with him for this. The worst he’ll find out is that he’s adopted, and it’s not really such a bad thing. At least that means Penny really wanted him, right?

Still, Nicole is going to meet him here soon. He can’t just disappear. She’d been really worried when he hadn’t shown up at that bachelor party he’d been scheduled for.

He walks to the desk, picks up the phone, and dials Nicole’s number. As usual, the machine picks up, but she answers as soon as he says his name.

“What’s up, honey?” she asks. “I’ll be there pretty soon. My dad is giving me a ride on his way to the grocery store.”

“Nicole, I’m going out for a few hours, so I’ll meet you at your house.”

“Are you going to see Penny? Have you heard anything from the hospital?”

“I called there a little while ago, and she’s still the same. No, I’m. . .I’m going to Arkham.”

“Wait for me,” she says quickly.

“No, you don’t need to come with me. It’ll be fine. I’ll call you as soon as I finish there, and then I’ll come to your place.”

“Arthur, please let me go with you.”

“Don’t worry about it. See you soon.”

“Arthur--”

He hangs up, feeling a little bad about doing that, but if he keeps talking to her, he’ll break down and let her come to Arkham with him. He’s told her not to treat him like a child, but how can she stop when he keeps acting like one? He’s a grown man and he can certainly go to the hospital and ask for his mother’s file. Like Nicole said, they might not let him have it, but he can at least try.

During the bus ride to Arkham, Arthur becomes more and more anxious. His heart beats faster, and he longs for a cigarette. He flips a coin deftly between his fingers, switching from hand to hand. By now he’s really good at it. So many thoughts ring in his head. Loud thoughts.

_Thomas Wayne._

_Adopted._

_Committed to Arkham._

How much of it is true, and how much have both Thomas and Penny made up? 

Arthur’s head spins. 

Finally he’s standing in front of a friendly clerk who seems happy to dig in Arkham’s basement for Penny’s thirty-year-old file. Maybe the guy is new. He hasn’t even asked for an ID or--what had Nicole called it? A power of attorney to prove that he can have access to Penny’s records.

The guy returns with a thick folder.

Arthur stares at it, his stomach clenched.

Penny’s file.

* * *

After Arthur’s call, Nicole nearly panics, but she tells herself to be reasonable. He seemed fine on the phone--or fine enough. They talked a lot yesterday, and he said that even if he was adopted, he’s not too upset about it anymore. 

Still, she goes directly to Clown Kingdom, hoping to catch him before he leaves for Arkham, but she’s not surprised that the place is locked up and empty when she and her dad arrive. 

Only when Doctor Mitchell calls to say Arthur missed his appointment does she know in her heart something is wrong. Arthur _never_ misses his sessions. She’s already left several messages at his apartment and at Clown Kingdom, in case he goes back there. She calls the hospital, but the nursing staff tells her that Penny hasn’t had any visitors since she and Arthur left that morning. 

Desperate, she even calls Arkham, but no one recalls seeing him there.

That's definitely not like Arthur. He was determined to see that file. Once his mind is made up about something, it's nearly impossible to get him to change it. If he didn't go to Arkham, then maybe he was jumped again? He seems to be a magnet for that kind of violence. Or maybe something is off with his meds. He has been more depressed lately, since Penny is sick and he confronted Thomas Wayne.

Now almost beside herself with worry, Nicole asks her Dad to help her look for Arthur while her mother stays home, in case he shows up there. 

Remembering how he’d thought about climbing into the fridge just days ago, Nicole and her father stop at Arthur’s apartment. She’s terrified of what she might find, but she has no choice but to search it. They check everywhere, even the basement laundry room, just in case. One of Arthur’s neighbors, Sophie, says she hasn’t seen him around the building at all this evening. 

It’s pouring cold, dirty rain in Gotham when Nicole and her dad return home that night after spending hours driving all over the city looking for Arthur.

Her mother opens the door before they even get out of the car.

“Any luck?” her mother asks, looking concerned.

Nicole shakes her head, feeling sick and near tears with worry. It’s not like Arthur not to call her when he says he’ll call, and it’s certainly not like him to disappear for this long. Worst of all, if he hadn't gone to Arkham, then where did he go this afternoon?

She calls the police, and though there's nothing they can do officially since he's an adult and hasn't been missing long enough, Detective Amenguale says they'll keep their eyes open for Arthur. He's familiar enough with Arthur's issues that he takes Nicole's concern about his welfare seriously.

“Do you want something to eat?” Nicole's mother asks.

“Yeah, I’m starving,” her father says, even though he had a burger and fries at a fast food place about an hour ago.

Nicole hasn’t been able to eat all day. She’s too worried.

“No. Thanks. I’m going upstairs to try calling his apartment again.” Nicole knows it will be futile, but it's better than doing nothing. 

“He’ll turn up, Nicole.” Her mother says, sympathy in her eyes.

_Yes, but will he be dead or alive?_

“I hope he's okay,” Nicole whispers, and runs upstairs to the phone. She dials. Arthur’s answering machine picks up and she’s about to leave another message when the doorbell rings.

_Oh, please let it be him!_

Nicole heads for the stairs, just as she hears her father exclaim, “Holy shit, Arthur!”


	22. Life is a Lie

  
Nicole is so overcome with relief and anger that she feels disconnected from reality. She’s running downstairs, but her perception is in slow motion. Soundless. Like an old, silent film playing on the wrong speed. Sometimes she feels that way when she’s super-anxious--like now.

At the front door, her father stands off to the side, leaving room for Arthur to step in, but he doesn’t move.

He stands there, drenched in cold rain, his head bowed, dark tendrils of soaked hair dripping over his grim face. 

Nicole’s anger disappears. Clearly something is terribly wrong. He looks even worse than after his confrontation with Thomas Wayne.

“Arthur, what happened?” Nicole asks. “Where have you been?”

He still doesn’t speak. It’s like his body is there, but his mind is somewhere else. Knowing him, that’s a frightening thought.

Nicole takes his hand and tugs. He follows her inside.

“Is he okay?” her mother asks. “Should we call someone?”

Arthur finally lifts his gaze to Nicole. His expression is beyond upset. If she didn’t know better, she’d think Penny died, but Nicole has already called the hospital, so that's not it.

Still holding his hand, Nicole tugs him toward the stairs. “Come on. I’ll get you a towel to dry off.”

He follows her obediently, his steps heavy behind her.

“Herb, he doesn’t look right,” Nicole’s mother whispers. “Maybe we should go up there with them.”

“Not right now, Edna. Leave them alone. She’ll call if she needs us.”

“Herb--”

“Edna. Just relax.”

“How can I relax when--”

Nicole closes the door, shutting off the rest of her parents’ conversation.

“I’m going to get you a towel and some dry clothes.” Nicole lets go of Arthur’s hand and hurries to her room. He’s at her apartment so often that he has extra clothes there. She gathers some and glances at him on her way to the bathroom. He walks slowly toward the couch and runs his hand over it, touching the arm and the cushions as if he’s not sure they’re real.

When she joins him again, he’s sitting, his elbows resting on his spread knees, his head down. He’s pale, every line in his face more prominent than ever.

“Arthur, talk to me.” She sits beside him and places the clothes and towel on the coffee table. She’s not usually afraid of him--just a few times before, like when she thought he might take a hammer to Randall. It’s not exactly like that right now, but she knows he’s on the edge. 

Despite his usually quiet demeanor, there’s another side to him. She’s seen it when he’s Joker, and sometimes even when he’s not. He’s told her about his violent impulses and about his suicidal thoughts. If only she could tell where his thoughts are right now, but she’s not a mind reader. He needs to open up to her, or to _someone_. Maybe she should call Doctor Mitchell?

Finally he lifts his gaze to hers. His frowning lips tremble for a few seconds before he says, “I’ve had a bad day.”

“All right. What happened?” She brushes rain-soaked hair from his face. “Take off those wet clothes.”

“Okay.” He unzips his jacket partway. A folder rests beneath, against his chest. He tugs it out and hands it to her.

Glancing at it, she sees that it’s Penny’s file from Arkham.

“You were there,” she says softly. “I called everywhere looking for you, including Arkham, but they said no one was there today asking for her file.”

He still doesn’t speak, but continues undressing. He pulls his cigarettes, lighter, ID, a bunch of loose change, pepper spray, and keys out of his pocket and tosses them on the coffee table. Then he shrugs off his jacket and pulls off the shirt beneath. He’s soaked to the skin.

Nicole places the file aside and stands, holding his wet clothes. She holds out her hand. “Pants. Socks.”

He removes it all, including his underwear. Then he tugs on the fresh briefs that sit on top of the clothes she'd brought him. She leaves only to toss his clothes in the washing machine. Gotham rain isn’t exactly clean. When she returns to the living room, he’s sitting on the couch in nothing but briefs, looking far off, a cigarette between his fingers, although it’s not lit.

“Go ahead,” she motions toward the cigarette. It’s only one. She can open the windows.

His gaze meets hers and he frowns again before putting the cigarette back into the half empty pack. Then he starts to laugh hysterically.

Sitting beside him, Nicole rests her hand on his back. “Try counting.”

“Don’t. . .want. . .to,” he chokes out between laughter. Wild-eyed, he meets her gaze. “This is. . .me. Not a. . .fucking condition.”

What the hell is he talking about? She’s heard Arthur’s real laugh, and this isn’t it. Right now he’s laughing and crying at the same time.

Nicole reaches for the file. “Can I read this?”

He nods, and as she opens the file, he laughs so hard that he braces himself on the coffee table to avoid falling on the floor.

She knows he can’t help it, but her nerves are already frayed, and it’s hard to focus on the file--at least at first. Once she starts, it’s like the world has gone silent again.

Penny Fleck is even more unstable than Nicole thought, and Arthur--

The abuse he suffered at the hands of her boyfriend while she sat by and not only let it happen, but went on about what a happy child he was, how he never cried, is enough to make Nicole physically sick. If she was the sort of person to vomit easily, she’d run for the bathroom right now.

It’s the photos of battered, three-year-old Arthur that nearly make her lose control, but she can’t. Arthur is already going over the edge. She has to keep it together for his sake. She swipes tears from her eyes, wishing they’d just stop.

Nicole had been right earlier, about Penny dying. At least now, to Arthur, the mother he thought he'd known all these years is dead, or she never even existed. The file confirms that sad reality.

Arthur laughs harder and slams his hand on the table. “What the. . .what the fuck, Nicole?” His glistening eyes fix on her with a wildness that scares her. He’s not calming down, but getting worse.

“You need to breathe and get yourself together,” she says firmly, throwing the file on the coffee table. She reaches for him, but he jerks away.

“What. . .” He laughs, not a flicker of humor in his eyes. “What. . .are you doing. . .with me? I shouldn’t. . .have come--”

“You should have come sooner.” She grasps his shoulders, but he stands so abruptly that he stumbles over the coffee table, overturning it with a crash. 

“Great! Now my parents probably heard that and think something is wrong up here. My father will come up packing heat!” Nicole straightens the table and picks up the items that have scattered on the floor, including the file.

Between painful barks of laughter, he chokes out, “He has. . . a gun, but you. . . told me to get rid of mine?”

“He has a license!” Nicole snaps, scarcely believing they’re having this conversation right now. “And he’s never tried to shut himself in a refrigerator!”

Arthur doesn’t argue. He’s still sitting on the floor, laughing and coughing. Finally the episode subsides. 

“Put these on.” Nicole tosses him pants. Somehow he gets them on and zips them before her door bursts open and her father stomps in with his handgun, her mother close behind him.

“What the hell is going on up here?” her father demands.

“It’s okay,” Nicole says shakily. “Arthur just tripped over the coffee table.”

“Edna, why the hell are they both crying?”

“What happened?” her mother asks, calmer than her dad. “Did something happen to your mother, Arthur?”

He bursts into laughter again, trying to stifle it in the crook of his arm.

“Can I show them?” Nicole asks.

He nods, his eyes shimmering with tears. “Who cares?”

“This is his mother’s file from Arkham.” Nicole hands the folder to her mother. She and her dad sit on the couch to read it.

Her father tugs eyeglasses from his pocket before he starts reading. After a moment, he says, “Holy shit.”

Nicole’s mother is silent, but her expression serious.

Sniffling, Nicole leaves briefly to grab tissues from the bedroom. She plucks a couple from the box to wipe her eyes and nose. Then she offers the box to Arthur, but he doesn't notice. He's still sitting on the floor, his hand over his his eyes.

“I want to kill her," he murmurs.

Nicole can’t blame him for being furious--beyond furious. According to documents included in Penny’s file, he was adopted, though Nicole can scarcely believe that a woman like Penny Fleck would be allowed to adopt a baby. Due to the abuse he’d suffered while in her care, Arthur had sustained severe head trauma, which finally explains the pseudolbulbar affect. She and the piece of shit she’d dated had fucked up Arthur’s life.

“I want to fucking kill her,” Arthur repeats, his voice deadly soft and steady. 

Nicole’s mother surprises her by saying, “I don’t blame you.”

Arthur lifts his gaze to her mom. “You. . .don’t?”

“What she did to you is inexcusable, but you can’t kill her, Arthur. You’ll only ruin your own life.”

“I don’t care.”

His words hurt, though Nicole understands he’s not exactly in control of himself right now. “What do you mean you don’t care? What about us?”

Arthur lowers his gaze and shakes his head. “There is no us. Not anymore. I can’t--This is me, Nicole. I’m not going to get any better.”

“You’re doing fine, Arthur,” she says, terrified about where his thoughts are going. 

“What if I’m like her?” He meets her gaze. The lost look in his eyes almost brings her to tears again. “I _am_ like her. I was in the hospital, just like her. Thomas Wayne--”

“I don’t give a damn about Thomas Wayne.” Nicole cups his face. “I love you.”

“She’s right,” Nicole’s father says. “You’re doing fine. You’ve got a good business going with Nicole. You’re a good guy. So what about this shit? Yeah, it’s bad, but that doesn’t change all the stuff you’re doing with your life now.”

“What about Thomas Wayne?” her mother asks.

It doesn’t take long for Nicole and Arthur to explain what Penny had told him about her alleged affair with Thomas Wayne.

Arthur shakes his head. “My whole life is a lie. I don’t even know what’s real anymore.” He pushes himself to his feet and drags on his shirt. “I’m going.”

“No.” Nicole stands, angry again. “What you’re going to do is sit your narrow ass down and call Doctor Mitchell. You need to talk to him right now.”

Arthur glares at her. “No, Nicole. I don’t want to talk to fucking Doctor Mitchell. What’s he going to do? Wipe out my past?”

“No, he’s going to talk to you because your thoughts are everywhere right now.”

“It might be a good idea,” Nicole’s mother says softly.

“Fuck!” Arthur turns and as if on impulse, smashes his forehead against the wall. Hard.

“Oh my God,” Nicole’s mother murmurs, clamping a hand over her mouth and staring at Arthur with a look of pity and fear.

“Hey don’t do that,” Nicole’s father says. “You’ll ruin my wall.”

A faint smile toys with Arthur’s lips. At least it’s a real smile.

“I’m calling.” Nicole hurries to the phone.

“I told you, Nicole, I don’t need you to tell me what to do. You or fucking Doctor Mitchell.”

Arthur had given her the psychiatrist’s number long ago, just in case something like this happens. He’s always known that sometimes he might not be in the right place psychologically to properly take care of himself. 

She dials.

“I said no, Nicole!”

“I don’t give a flying fuck if you hate my guts right now, Arthur Fleck. I’m calling him.” She dials and leaves a message with Doctor Mitchell’s answering service.

Arthur pulls on his shoes and heads for the door, but Nicole steps in front of it, glaring at him. The cold rage in his eyes reminds her too much of Joker, but she stands her ground.

They’re still locked in a staring match when the phone rings. Her father answers it, the gun in his hand. Obviously Arthur’s behavior has frightened her parents, too. Nicole truly doesn’t believe he’ll harm her or them, but she knows he won’t hesitate to hurt himself, as he proved just moments ago.

“Hey, Arthur,” her father says. “It’s for you.”

“Please,” Nicole whispers.

He narrows his eyes at her, still not looking quite like the Arthur she knows, but he turns and strides toward the phone.


	23. Day by Day

Nicole sits on the couch, listening quietly to the conversation between Arthur and Doctor Mitchell. Her parents have gone down to their apartment to give him privacy. Nicole tries to go to her room, but Arthur motions for her to stay.

She already knows about most of the stuff he tells the doctor, but when he mentions his thoughts about killing Penny, he also describes a talk he had with Anton Little Creek. Apparently they had some kind of spiritual session that Arthur never mentioned to anyone else. He’s had violent thoughts about hurting or killing other people--those who have harmed him in some way. Anton convinced him that violence isn’t the answer. Arthur has for the most part let go of those feelings, until tonight.

Nicole understands. He’s suffered terribly because of Penny’s neglect. Worst of all, her mental issues might have prevented her from protecting him. At least that’s what Nicole tells herself, otherwise her own hatred of Penny will overtake her, and she’ll be no help to Arthur. He’s already been hurt enough by Penny. If possible, he needs to find a way to move on. The thought that he’s dedicated most of his life to serving the woman who allowed his abuse, who was an abuser herself, is too cruel.

When Arthur hangs up the phone, he’s calmer. He looks more like himself, less wild-eyed, but he also looks tired--wan and the circles under his eyes more pronounced. 

“Do you want something to eat?” she asks.

He shakes his head.

“You said you’ve been walking around all day and you probably haven’t eaten. Your blood sugar might be really low. You’ll feel better if you have something.”

“Okay.” He sounds so pliable. Defeated. Completely different than he’d been just a short time ago. Yes, he’s more in control, but she can see that he’s still deeply upset, and he has good reason to be.

Arthur sits on the couch and leans back, closing his eyes.

Nicole opens a can of vegetable soup. While it heats, she prepares a turkey breast sandwich and cuts it in half. She fills two glasses with water and places the food on the coffee table.

Penny’s file still sits there, so she moves it to the kitchen cabinet. Looking at it is enough to make her lose her appetite, so she can only imagine the effect it must have on Arthur.

“Here.” Nicole hands him half of the sandwich and takes a bite of the other.

He looks at the food in his hand, turning it slowly before he finally lifts his gaze to hers. “I’m sorry. I was mean to you, and I shouldn’t have been.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m just glad you’re here.”

Shaking his head, he casts his gaze down again. “I don’t know why. You’re better off without me.”

“Says you.” She grins and rests her hand on his knee. “I love you, Arthur. No one is perfect. I know I’m not. You put up with a lot from me, too.”

A quirky smile plays around his lips. “Like what?”

“I know you want to go to more comedy clubs and probably dance clubs, too, but you don’t even ask because you know I’m anxious at places like that.”

“That’s not important. I’d rather dance with you in the living room than have you feel bad in a crowded club. Besides, it’s too expensive.”

“Not anymore really. Business is good.”

“Speaking of that, I have a gig tomorrow at noon. A kid’s party. Shit.” He scrubs a hand through his hair.

“Are you up to it? We can try calling Gary to see if he’ll cover for you. He doesn’t have anything scheduled until late afternoon.”

“No.” Arthur shakes his head. “I’ll be okay. You and Clown Kingdom are the best things in my life. I’m not going to fuck it up.”

Nicole kisses his cheek, and they fall silent while they eat. Arthur eats most of the soup and a quarter of the sandwich. He drinks two glasses of water, though, and then he says, “I’m really tired. I’d better go home.”

“You are home. You know that, right?” She brushes tendrils of dark, wavy hair from his face.

His gaze meets hers, his expression soft, vulnerable. Needy. For a second she thinks he’s going to kiss her, but he hugs her instead. Closing her eyes, she holds him close, her throat tight. She's on the verge of tears again, but manages to hold them back. She needs to be strong for him right now. He tightens his grip on her, and she rubs his back until he’s ready to move away.

Hand in hand, they walk to the bedroom. Arthur doesn’t bother undressing. He just pulls off his shoes, climbs into bed, and curls up on his side. Nicole changes into a nightshirt and joins him, but as she reaches for the light switch, he says, “Can we leave it on?”

“Of course.”

He swallows visibly and reaches out to brush away a wisp of hair caught in the corner of her mouth. His fingertips linger on her face before he lets his hand drop. Nicole covers it with hers. 

“Doctor Mitchell said that maybe you should come to some sessions with me,” he says softly.

Nicole’s stomach clenches. She recalls her own experiences with counselors and psychiatrists. Most of them weren’t helpful for her, but this is for Arthur. 

“You don’t have to, if you don’t want to, Nicole.”

“No, I’ll go.” Anything that will help Arthur cope and feel better, she’ll do.

It’s not long before he closes his eyes. By the evenness of his breathing, he’s asleep.

Nicole is tired, but she can’t sleep right now. Today has been too stressful. She quietly slips out of bed and closes the door partway, so she won’t disturb him.

She starts to clean the dinner dishes, but a soft tap on her door distracts her. It’s her parents.

“How is he?” her mother asks quietly.

“Sleeping. I think he’s feeling better. Come on.” Nicole leads the way to the kitchen. While her parents sit at the table, she makes hot chocolate.

“That poor guy.” Her mother shakes her head.

Nicole sighs. “It’s awful. Practically his entire life has revolved around Penny. He does just about everything for her, and she let that fucking boyfriend--excuse my language. I don’t even have the words for that woman. I can’t believe no one at Arkham remembered that Arthur was there today.”

“They remembered,” her dad says. “The clerk who found the file messed up. He should have asked for proof that Arthur has a right to see it. He realized too late that he made a mistake, and when Arthur took the file, if that clerk admitted to it, he’d be in trouble. Maybe even lose his job. He probably figures that no one will go look for a thirty-something-year-old file, so he said Arthur was never there.”

Her father’s explanation makes sense.

“You know, file or no file, I don’t buy that Arthur was adopted,” her mother says thoughtfully.

“What do you mean? The papers are there,” Nicole says, although earlier she had the same thought as her mother.

“Yes, and not that I’m inclined to trust Penny Fleck about anything, but she said Wayne had her sign papers about Arthur. Remember your cousin Judy? She and her husband adopted their daughter several years ago and they practically had to jump through hoops to get her. They’re a two-parent, upper middle-class family and neither has a history of mental issues, but they had to go through all kinds of red tape before the adoption. They weren’t even sure if they would _get_ a baby. Now we’re supposed to believe that Penny Fleck, a single women who works as a housekeeper--no offense, honey--who also has a history of mental illness, is allowed to adopt a baby? I’m sorry, but it doesn’t make sense.”

“So you think Thomas Wayne really is Arthur’s father?” This worries Nicole even more. If it’s true, then Wayne is an even bigger scumbag than she thought. He knowingly left a helpless child with a mentally ill woman, to be abused and neglected by her monstrous boyfriend.

“I don’t know, but I’m just saying the adoption doesn’t make sense,” her mother says.

“I don’t think we should bring that up to Arthur. Not now anyway. He’s dealing with enough already, and Thomas Wayne has already punched him in the nose once.”

Her father grunts. “Somebody ought to punch Thomas Wayne in the nose.”

Nicole never thought she’d hear her father say anything negative about Thomas Wayne.

“Not likely. Men like that usually get whatever they want. It’s not such a stretch of the imagination to think he coerced, or more likely paid, Penny into signing papers to make it look like Arthur was adopted,” her mother adds.

Normally Nicole would think her mother’s mind is running away with her due to all the detective shows she watches on TV, but her theory makes sense.

“And I agree, mentioning this to Arthur won’t help.” Her mother meets Nicole’s gaze. “About Arthur. I feel sorry for him. I really do, but I’m worried about you. He’s unstable.”

“Can you blame him?” Nicole snaps.

“No. I don’t blame him at all, and I know you want to help him. So do we.” She glances at Nicole’s father who nods. “There’s nothing wrong with that. We can be his friends and support him, but do you really want to stay involved with him romantically? I know you two have been planning a future, but--”

“We’re still planning a future.” Her parents are just trying to help. They’re worried, but they have to understand that Arthur is her partner, and not just in business. “I love him. That’s not going to change. I’m not easy to deal with, either.”

“Your problems aren’t as bad as his,” her mother points out.

“I’ve had some bad times, Mom. You know that. When I was younger, all I thought about was suicide.”

“You didn’t try to climb into a refrigerator,” her father points out. “And you don’t bang your head against the wall.”

“The point is, he didn’t climb into the fridge, and instead of going back to his apartment, alone, and maybe bashing his head in, he came here. From the moment I met Arthur, he’s wanted help. He wants to be happy like everyone else. No one has a perfect life, but he has a right to try to be happy, and so do I.”

“He makes you happy?” Her mother looks both skeptical and resigned.

“Yeah. Most of the time, he makes me happy. He’s a good man, but he’s been dealt a bad hand and now he’s trying to do something about it. I’m not saying things will be easy. Things weren’t always easy for me before meeting him, but I want to be with him. We’ll take it day by day if we have to.”

“All right. Remember, we’re here, too.”

“Thank you.” Nicole smiles and brings the hot chocolate to the table. Sometimes her parents drive her crazy, but they’ve always been there to support her, and now they’re offering that same support to Arthur. That means more to her than they probably realize. “You guys are the best.”

“Yeah. We know.” Her father winks. 

Once her parents leave, Nicole returns to the bedroom. She slips between the sheets and Arthur reaches for her.

“Sorry to wake you,” Nicole whispers, resting her cheek against his chest.

“You didn’t. Were your parents here? I thought I heard voices.”

“Yeah.”

“They must hate me.”

“Not remotely.”

“If I had parents like that, maybe I wouldn’t be so fucked up. I still can’t believe it. I’ve been trying to remember all that stuff that the file said happened to me, but I can’t.” He shakes his head and tightens his grip on her. “I think I’m afraid to.”

Nicole reaches up to stroke his face. “I don’t know what to say, Arthur.”

“You don’t have to say anything. Just stay with me. Let me hold you, so I know you’re real.”

“I’m real, babe.” She hugs him harder. “And I’m right here.”


	24. Burgers and Fries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to anyone who has stuck with this story. I know it's an unusual mix of fandoms, but I couldn't stop thinking what if . :-)

The next day, Nicole seems especially anxious and depressed before leaving for work at Holt Neuro. She’s short with Arthur, and he knows it’s his fault she’s so stressed. Yesterday was awful.

The last thing he feels like doing is a kids’ party, but he paints on his happy face and gets through it. He makes the kids smile and the parents seem pleased enough that a few even ask for his business card.

Afterward, he stops at Clown Kingdom to find Gary in the dressing room, preparing for his gig.

“Hey, Arthur, did you hear about Randall?” Gary asks.

“What about him?”

“He’s in jail. He was involved in a robbery not too long ago. Someone was shot. Looks like he’ll be going to prison for a while.”

Arthur draws a deep breath, and then he says sarcastically, “Randall is a great guy, isn’t he?”

Gary laughs and shakes his head. “I heard that from one of the other guys from Hoyt’s. Some of the guys are going to come here to fill out applications. Nicole said we’re going to hire a couple more clowns.”

Nicole. He wonders if she’s still mad at him. Maybe she wasn’t even mad at him this morning, but was having a panic attack. Sometimes she’s short-tempered when that happens.

“Yeah. We are. Word of mouth has been good."

“This dressing room might get a little tight, though, if we hire more.”

“Nicole and I talked about that. We’re going to put up a partition so that the outside office is smaller and the rest of the space will be for getting dressed.”

“Good idea.”

“Oh, did I tell you I’m going to be on the Murray Franklin show next Thursday?”

Gary grins. “Are you joking, Arthur?”

“No. Ask Nicole.” Arthur chuckles. "Fucking crazy, isn't it? Me on the telly."

“That’s great. It will be good publicity for Clown Kingdom.”

Arthur smiles. He can hardly believe he’s going to be on the show. Then his stomach tightens and his grin fades. Murray will want to make fun of him, but that’s okay. He and Nicole have his act planned out. They’ve covered a bunch of different scenarios. Arthur knows exactly what he wants to say and how he wants to say it--or rather Joker does. It won’t be what Murray Franklin expects, that’s for sure.

After Gary leaves, Arthur calls the hospital out of habit. He doesn’t want to go there right now. He’s still too mad at Penny. Yesterday Arthur had been so upset that he’d forgotten about his session with Doctor Mitchell, but last night on the phone, they had talked about Penny. Arthur should stay away if he’s having violent thoughts about her, but if he’s able to overcome those impulses at some point in the future and he feels he needs closure, he should see her. He’s going to have to deal with her at some point. Unless she dies, they won’t keep her in the hospital for the rest of her life.

That night, he meets Nicole in front of Holt Neuro to walk home with her.

“I’m sorry about this morning,” she says, staring at him with soft blue eyes. “I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“You weren’t mad at me. Right?”

“No. I just felt overwhelmed and I had trouble sleeping. I’m really sorry, Arthur.” She leans her head against him.

Wrapping an arm around her, he gives her a squeeze. “You don’t have to be.”

“Yeah, I do." She lifts her head to meet his gaze. "I can’t take it out on other people when I’m feeling like that.”

“After what I put you through yesterday, you have a right to feel anxious. I know you probably didn’t even want to go to work today.”

“Neither did you. How was the gig?”

“It went pretty good. I think I might have picked up a few more customers.”

“Nice.”

On the way home, he tells her about Randall going to jail.

“I’m not surprised.” Nicole shakes her head. “That guy is a real piece of work.”

“No kidding. You know, I think I’m going to see Penny tomorrow morning.”

“You are?”

“I have to figure out what to do about her.”

Penny Fleck. He hates that name, but he can’t call her mom anymore. The thought of it makes him sick. Worst of all, there are moments when he forgets what he saw in that file and at those times, he doesn’t hate her. The whole situation is so fucked up.

Nicole looks at him with wide eyes. “What do you mean, Arthur?”

“I mean one of the nurses talked to me about putting her in a home.”

"That sounds like a good idea." She looks relieved. Maybe she thought he was talking about killing his mother again. 

“It’s a lot to work out, but I have to do something with her. Rent will be due soon, and I’m not sure what to do about the apartment.”

Last night Nicole asked Arthur to move in with her, and he agreed. 

“We’ll figure it out,” she says. “We can talk to someone at the hospital tomorrow and find out what steps to take about getting Penny into a permanent facility.”

“Thank you.”

“Any time.”

“When we get home, just relax. I’ll cook dinner.”

She grins. “Really? What are you making?”

“Burgers and fries. I went food shopping this afternoon. You have a serious lack of frozen dinners.”

She shakes her head. “No way, Arthur Fleck, are we living on processed food alone.”

“I was just kidding.” He tosses her a sassy look. “I bought real ground meat for the burgers. I cheated on the fries, though. They’re pre-cut.”

“Do we have pickles?”

“I bought some." His brow furrows, but there's a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Aren’t they processed?”

“Don’t be a smartass.”

He bats his eyes at her and grins like Joker. “Sweetheart, I was born a smartass.”

She chuckles and slips her hand into his for the rest of the walk home.

* * *

In the morning, Arthur and Nicole arrive at the hospital and take the stairs to Penny’s floor. On the way, Arthur grips Nicole’s hand tightly. It’s cold, and his expression is strained. 

Nicole wonders if this is a good idea right now. Just a day ago, he wanted to kill Penny. 

“We can just go talk to someone about a home for her,” Nicole says softly.

He shakes his head. “I want to see her.”

Outside Penny’s room, they pause for a moment before approaching her bed.

Penny is asleep. 

“Penny Fleck,” Arthur says softly and she opens her eyes. “I hate that name.”

“Happy.”

“Happy?” His lips twist into an angry smile and his eyes flash. “Until I met Nicole, I wasn’t happy for one minute of my entire fucking life.”

Nicole’s heart races and she moistens her lips. This is probably a mistake, but maybe he needs to confront her. It seems wrong, to do this to a sick old woman, but it was just as wrong to tie a three-year-old child to a radiator, beat and starve him. At least whatever Arthur says to her will be over quickly. How long did he suffer while in her care?

“I know it all,” he says. “I know what you did and what you let happen to me.”

Penny reaches for him weakly, but Arthur shakes his head. His grip on Nicole’s hand is almost painful.

“I just wanted to let you know that,” he says through gritted teeth.

“Come on.” Nicole tugs him toward the door.

He strides out of the room and Nicole hurries to keep up.

“Can you slow down?”

He does, but his eyes are downcast and his expression grim. 

“Do you want to leave or find out who to talk to about her?” Nicole asks.

He meets her gaze. “Let’s get it over with.”

Good idea. The sooner they get Penny settled, the better. Then they can get on with their life together.


	25. I'm Gonna Kill You, Fleck!

  
Other than stopping by to pick up the rest of his clothes, Arthur isn’t ready to face Penny’s apartment. Dealing with the red tape of getting her into a nursing home isn’t easy, and he’s not sure he could get through it without Nicole, but soon everything will be settled. He’s relieved, but he still can’t get over the feelings of sadness and anger when he thinks about Penny, so he tries not to. Instead he focuses on Nicole, Clown Kingdom, and his upcoming appearance on the Murray Franklin Show.

He still has time to empty the apartment before the rent is due, and Nicole doesn’t pressure him about it. On Wednesday after his afternoon gig, he decides to finally start the process. Nicole offered to help him in their free time, but today he wants to be alone. He loves that she’s always there for him, but sometimes he just needs space to sort things out in his head. She understands because she’s the same way. 

He lights a cigarette and gives a wry laugh. Just last night, she had locked herself in the bathroom after they had an argument that seemed to come out of nowhere. Apparently she’s been anticipating a party for a coworker who’s retiring. It’s today after her shift, and even the idea of it incites panic attacks.

When she stayed such a long time in the bathroom, he thought about how she’d told him that as a kid she’d been obsessed with suicide, so he’d ended up breaking down the door.

Nicole wasn’t happy, to say the least, and neither was her father. Only her mother seemed to understand why he’d done it. 

When Nicole had finally calmed down, she’d apologized for scaring him and said that sometimes she just needs to be alone. He wishes she’d tell him things like that _before_ he fucks up. Like Doctor Mitchell said when Nicole had joined him for his session on Monday, they need to keep the lines of communication open, but even when you love someone, that isn’t always easy.

He finishes his cigarette while walking around the apartment, thinking about how life had been here. He’s so over it already, but why does he still feel a little. . .not sad, but uncertain. It’s like he’s afraid the good luck he’s stumbled upon will vanish and he’ll wake up to find that he’s the twisted clown from his vision after all. That’s not exactly right. Joker _is_ twisted, but in a different way, but that’s only because he’s had--what had Dr. Sykora said way back when? _Other options._ He’s had other options.

He manages to pack away several items and tosses others into a junk pile. Finally, he leaves to meet Nicole at Holt Neuro so that he can walk her home from the party. He hopes it went well for her and she was able to enjoy herself. Still, just showing up is a big step for her. 

After the session with Doctor Mitchell, Arthur had talked to her about possibly returning to counseling for her anxiety. She's adamant about not wanting meds, but he convinced her that behavioral therapy might help. She’s agreed to give it another try.

Outside Holt Neuro, he paces and reads his journal. He’s confident about the Murray Franklin Show, but practice never hurts.

“Hey, Arthur!” Nicole calls, stepping out of the building with Rita and a clean-cut handsome blond man. A twinge of jealousy darts through Arthur. Sometimes it’s not easy, knowing she works around good-looking, educated, rich guys.

He puts on a smile and approaches. “Hey, Nicole. Hi, Rita.”

“Hello, Arthur.” Rita nods.

“Arthur, this is Doctor Holt. This is his hospital,” Nicole says.

“Nice to meet you, Arthur.” Doctor Holt smiles. He’s on the cool side, but there’s something kind under the surface of his eyes. Since hanging out with Anton, Arthur has started to notice things like that.

This time Arthur smiles genuinely. “Hi. It’s nice to meet you.” He offers his hand and Holt shakes it.

“You, too. If you’ll excuse me, I have to stop by the clinica.” Doctor Holt strides off.

Rita shakes her head, gazing after him. “One job to the other. Oh well. I guess that’s the trend around here.” She smiles and casts a knowing look at Nicole. “You two are starting to do well for yourselves. Nicole probably won’t be around here much longer, even part time. When that happens, we’re sure going to miss her.”

“It won’t be for a while, Rita, and I’ll miss it here, too.”

“Hey, you finally made it to a party, though.” Rita winks. “Good night, you two.” She walks off.

“How was the party?” Arthur asks, glad to see that Nicole doesn’t look nearly as tense as she did last night or this morning.

“Good. I’m glad it’s over, though. I missed you.” She kisses his cheek and takes his hand.

"Your boss is good-looking, huh?"

She shrugs. "He's cute, if you like the type."

Arthur laughs. "Don't most women like the rich, handsome type?"

"Rich is nice, but it's not everything. And, yeah, I like handsome men. That's part of what attracted me to you." She tosses him a flirty look that sends a little jolt of excitement through him. She nudges him with her shoulder. "Come on, Arthur Fleck, with your pretty hair and big green eyes. You know you're handsome."

Arthur grins and casts his gaze down. Until Nicole, he'd mostly dreamed about this kind of attention. It makes him feel good, to hear that she thinks he's good looking. He kisses the back of her hand. "You're beautiful."

Nicole laughs. "You're a good liar, but thanks. I guess I'm okay. Not beautiful, though."

"You are. I love to look at you, and I love to be with you."

She looks at him with affection he'd never imagined for himself--not outside of his fantasies. "I love to be with you, too. How was your afternoon?”

“I started cleaning out mom's--Penny’s apartment.”

Nicole holds his gaze. “Are you doing okay?”

“Yeah. I feel good.” Surprisingly, he does. He feels better than he has since reading Penny’s file. Maybe because he realizes that while he can’t change the past, he can still have a future with the woman he loves. “I can’t believe the Murray Franklin Show is tomorrow.”

“Neither can I.”

It’s really exciting, but also rattling. Arthur is a little worried about what might happen, but once he’s in costume, any fear will vanish, almost like magic. Lately, there are times when he hasn’t even needed the costume. Sometimes he just _feels_ like Joker. Nicole usually knows even before he does. It’s _weird_.

* * *

Joker paces around the bedroom he shares with Nicole. His tongue flicks over his lips, tasting paint. A glance at the clock shows that he’ll have to leave soon.

Nicole should be home by now. She and her mom are getting their hair done before the show, and her dad is picking them up. That should have been--

The phone rings. He strides toward it and snaps it up. “Hello?”

“Arthur, it’s me,” Nicole says. “We’ve got a flat tire.”

“What?” This is fucking impossible!

“We’re changing it, but we’ll be a little late. We’ll still have plenty of time to get to the studio, though. Don’t worry.”

“I’m not.”

“See you soon.”

“Bye.” He numbly hangs up the phone. She’s not going to make it. No matter what she says, she won’t be there. His run of good luck has gone on for too long. Now it’s all going to collapse on the night of the Murray Franklin Show.

_What the fuck, Arthur? Nothing is going to collapse. Joker is yours, whether Nicole or anyone else is around. He’s yours._ I’m _yours, and I know exactly what to do._

He smiles broadly and straightens his posture. Then the phone rings again. “Hello?”

“Fleck? Is this you?”

Arthur doesn’t recognize the voice. “Who is this?”

“I’m the custodian at your mother’s building. You left this number with us in case we need to get in touch with you. Hey, someone tried to break into her place a little while ago. Maybe you should come check it out.”

Un-fucking-believable! 

“You there, Fleck?”

“Yeah. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Annoyance builds inside him. He should say fuck the apartment. It can wait until after the Murray Franklin Show. Or tomorrow. Truly, he doesn’t give a flying fuck if someone breaks in and empties the entire place. It will save him the work of cleaning it.

He pulls on his red suit jacket and hurries out of the apartment. He catches a bus to his old place. When he arrives and talks to the custodian, the man knows nothing about any attempted break-in. It does seem like a joke. Who the fuck would rob Penny’s place? There’s nothing valuable in it.

Annoyed, Arthur stalks out of the apartment. He stops at a payphone to call home. Nicole is probably there by now, and he forgot to leave a note.

“Arthur? Where are you?” She sounds nervous.

“I’m outside Penny’s apartment. Someone called to say there was an attempted break-in, but it turned out to be a false alarm. I’m going to take the train to the studio. It’s getting late and it will be faster, so you guys just meet me there, okay?”

“Okay. You’re all right, though?”

“Sweetheart, I’m fine, but I have to go.” He makes a kissing sound through the phone before hanging up.

Excitement builds inside him, and he smiles. Joker is about to make his debut on national television.

At the top of the long, long staircase that used to be such a fucking drag, he pauses for a moment. He can hear Murray’s theme song. His intro. And then--

Arthur dances down the stairs to music blaring in his head. This is Joker’s show. They can try to make fun of him, but it won’t matter. They’ll laugh, but on _his_ terms. Nothing can hurt him anymore. 

“Hey, Arthur!”

He turns from where he’s nearly reached the bottom of the stairs. At the top stands a tall, heavyset guy. Randall? It can’t be. He’s in jail. This guy sure looks like Randall, though, and he has a gun.

“I wanna to talk to you, Fleck! My brother is in jail because of you!”

“Oh shit!” Arthur runs. A bullet explodes and he waits to feel the pain, but apparently the fucker is too far away to hit a fast-moving target. He’s always told Nicole he’s good at running for his life. Now he _really_ has to prove it.

Randall’s brother is too big and clumsy to catch him, but if he does, he’ll probably tear Arthur in half, and pepper spray isn’t going to help.

Arthur darts into the street.

Smack!

Arthur crashes into a car, rolls over the hood, and lands hard enough to nearly knock the breath out of him.

“I’m gonna kill you, Fleck!”

Pain doesn’t register. Horns blare. People shout. Joker pushes himself to his feet and runs. No way is he going to die like this. He still has a long, happy life ahead with Nicole, and there’s no way he’s going to miss appearing on the Murray Franklin Show.

He flies up the subway stairs. The train doors slide shut, but Joker squeezes through, breathing hard, his heart nearly exploding through his chest. 

Glancing outside, he sees Randall’s brother stagger to the top of the stairs. His gaze locks on Arthur, but Joker waves and grins broadly as the train picks up speed.

Joker stands, catching his breath. Beneath his jacket, his damp shirt clings to him uncomfortably. Sweat trickles down his temples, but he wipes it away. When the train stops, he saunters off, lighting a cigarette and still chuckling to himself.

_Murray Franklin, here I come._


	26. The Murray Franklin Show

Nicole and her parents arrive at the studio just moments before Arthur.

Even from a distance, it’s obvious by his stride that Joker is more than ready for tonight. He nears, grinning, but there’s something off. His wavy hair, freshly dyed eerie green, is damp. His face paint is messy and streaked with dried sweat. A blue teardrop trails down his cheek from one of the diamonds around his eyes.

“Are you okay?” Nicole asks. “You look like you ran here.”

“You’re partly right.” He wraps an arm around her and kisses her mouth.

Something still doesn’t feel right, but they don’t have much time to talk about it. “We’d better get inside.”

Nicole takes his hand, but it’s sticky. “What’s this? Arthur, your hands are bleeding.”

“Oh.” He gives a little laugh. “I tripped. Guess I skinned them. It’s no big deal.”

While Nicole’s parents get seated in the audience, Nicole accompanies Arthur. They’re brought to a dressing room and someone steps in to help clean up his makeup. Nicole asks for a first aid kit. While he’s getting his paint touched up, she cleans and bandages his hands.

“Sweetheart, when you’re done, call the police,” Joker says off-handedly. 

The makeup guy raises an eyebrow.

“What? Why?” Nicole demands, and is almost sorry she asked. He quickly explains the events that led to his disheveled appearance and skinned hands. Apparently he’d fallen while running from Randall’s vengeful brother.

“Oh shit,” Nicole murmurs. “Is there a phone around here?”

The makeup guy directs her to it, and she quickly dials the police and explains the situation. 

“They want to talk to you,” Nicole reports back to Arthur. “They’re coming here.”

He sits in a chair, flipping a coin between the fingers of his left hand, his glittering gaze fixed on a nearby television. The news is covering another clown rally. 

“Arthur, did you hear me?”

“Uh huh.” He chuckles softly and turns his gaze to her. 

“You’re sure you’re not hurt or anything?”

“I’m fine.” He nods, flashing a toothy grin.

The door opens and Murray Franklin steps inside with his producer, Gene Ufland.

Arthur stands, fixing his wide eyes on his favorite comedian. “Murray.”

“Hey, it’s Mr. Franklin,” Gene snaps.

Murray holds up his hand. “Gene, it’s all right. That’s all bullshit.”

“Thanks, Murray.” Arthur stares with his eerie grin--one that Nicole knows so well by now. She steps closer to him. “This is my business manager, Nicole.”

“So you’ve got a manager now?” Gene scoffs.

“I just wanted to ask you about this look.” Murray gestures toward Arthur.

“We don’t want anything to do with those rallies,” Gene interjects. “They’re too controversial.”

“I don’t have anything to do with that.” Arthur feigns innocence. For the first time since the car accident, Nicole wishes Arthur’s name had been printed in the paper. It would serve so many people right, to know that he _had_ unwittingly started the clown movement in Gotham. “I just thought this would be good for my act.”

Gene curls his lip. “Your act?”

“Okay. I think it’ll work.” Murray shrugs. “Just remember, kid, we have a clean show here, so nothing too crazy.”

“Crazy?” Arthur chuckles. “Me? Don’t worry about that, Murray.”

Nicole bites the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. 

“All right. Good luck, kid.” Murray turns to leave.

“Murray, just one thing,” Arthur says. “Can you introduce me as Joker?”

Gene shoots an annoyed look at Arthur. “What’s wrong with your real name?” 

“Murray, that’s what _you_ called me on your show. A Joker. I’ve turned it into my act.”

Again Murray shrugs. “Okay, kid. Whatever you say. Joker. I like it.”

The door closes, and Nicole and Arthur are alone again. He glances in the mirror and meets her gaze in it. Turning, he tugs her into his arms and dances her around the room.

“Arthur, are you nervous?” she asks. Joker is always a little strange, but tonight he’s really out there. Of course, he’s just been chased by a brute and is about to go on national TV. Good thing it’s not her, or she’d be hiding under the table.

“Joker is never nervous.”

“Here take this off.” She tugs away the paint-stained paper towel the makeup guy had tucked into his collar.

Someone arrives to escort them to the stage entrance where they wait behind the curtain. Nicole isn't even the one going out there, but she's jittery and her heart pounds. 

_Just breathe. He's going to be fine._

Now Murray talks about Arthur to a regular guest, sex therapist Doctor Sally.

“Does he have sexual problems?” Doctor Sally asks.

“Not hardly,” Nicole says stiffly, already annoyed. He's not even out there yet and they're mocking him. She reminds herself to stay calm. Murray’s plans for this show are different than Arthur’s. She just needs to trust that it will work out. 

“Thanks, sweetheart.” Arthur grins at Nicole.

“No, thank _you_.” She discreetly pats his tight little behind.

His smile fades when a clip of his Pogo’s act plays on the giant screen. Nicole’s stomach clenches. She looks away from the screen and touches Arthur’s arm.

“That’s not you anymore,” she whispers.

By his grim expression, he’s retreated into himself, but it’s only momentary. An icy slyness creeps over his painted face.

“Everyone, let’s welcome. . .Joker!” Murray announces.

Arthur dances onto the stage, spinning gracefully before striding toward Murray and shaking his hand. He turns to Doctor Sally and pulls her into an embrace. She stiffens, looking shocked. 

Arthur takes a seat. For a moment he stares at the audience, frozen and wide-eyed, his legs crossed. Nicole nearly panics. Is he about to lose it?

“Are you okay?” Murray asks him.

“Yeah.” Arthur nods slowly. “This is exactly how I imagined it.”

“That makes one of us.”

The audience laughs and Arthur snaps out of his stupor. He pastes on his eerie grin.

“So, Arthur, this look is different than what we saw in your clip. Want to tell us about it? Does it have to do with the clown movement? With the politics in this city? You said backstage that it doesn’t.”

“That’s right. I’m not political. I just want to make people laugh.”

Murray tosses him a snide look. “How's that going for you?”

Again the audience roars. This time Joker laughs, too, his high-pitched raptor cry.

“It’s going really well, Murray.”

“Is it? How?”

“My girlfriend and I have a new business, Clown Kingdom, that’s doing great. We book party clowns by day, and I also do a stand-up act for adults.”

“Yeah, I understand you’re a comedian. Do you want to tell a joke?”

The audience cheers, and Arthur grins. “Sure. Yeah.” With another sly look, he tugs out his joke diary.

“You have a book of jokes?” Murray chuckles.

Arthur continues smiling and flips through. “Here’s one. Knock. Knock.”

“You needed to look that up?”

“I want to get it right. Knock. Knock.”

“Who’s there?”

“It’s the landlord, miss. You’re being evicted. You and your three kids are out in the street.” Arthur laughs.

Murray curls his lip. The audience boos.

Doctor Sally looks appalled. “No, no! You can’t joke about something like that.”

“That’s not _funny_ , Arthur,” Murray snaps.

“You’re right, Murray, it’s not.” Arthur holds his gaze, his expression grim again. “But it’s reality for a lot of people in this city. All the clowns Thomas Wayne talks about. Some of them are just people who need support from the system, and they’re not getting it.”

“Hold on, Arthur. You’re not here to do a political rant.”

“No, I’m here because you thought my clip was something to laugh at.”

“Well you’re a comedian, right?”

“You weren’t laughing at my material. You were laughing at me. There’s a difference. You brought me here to make fun of me.”

Murray looks annoyed, but there’s something else in his expression, too. “What exactly do you want to say, Arthur?”

“I’m not expecting anyone to feel sorry for me. I don’t want them to, but what you saw in that video--the laughing--it’s a medical condition. I don’t do it on purpose. That was my first time performing and I was nervous. I messed up.”

“It happens,” Murray says coolly. 

“It’s a condition I’ll always have, but with help, I’ve been able to control it better. I’ve had help with other issues, too, because let me tell you, Murray, I represent a lot of so-called clowns out there who have conditions that make it hard for them to hold jobs and get access to medical help they need. If people like Thomas Wayne really want to do what’s right, they’ll take a good look at who the clowns are before cutting funds to necessary programs.”

“Wait a minute, you have a problem with Thomas Wayne, too?” Murray asks.

“Yes, I do. He’s a powerful man and he wants to be mayor of Gotham, but instead of getting to know about the people and their problems, he’d rather talk about how they’re at fault. Does he ever think about what it might be like to be the other guy? To have a mental or physical disability, or to just have some plain old bad luck?”

“People need to take responsibility for themselves, too.”

“More people than you think will, if they’re given the chance.”

Murray scoffs. “Tell that to the police. With all these clown rallies and political protests, do you know how many people have been injured, even killed, in this city, including cops?”

“I’m not saying violence is the way. A good friend told me that. The people have a right to be angry, but I happen to know that cops aren’t always the enemy. There are good cops in Gotham, like the guys at the twelfth precinct. There’s a lot of crime in this city, but if people can just learn to be civil to each other and help each other, maybe things can change.”

Murray nods, looking thoughtful. Is he going to stop Arthur? The audience has been cheering at times, booing at others, and clapping without cues. 

Arthur goes on, “If Thomas Wayne is elected, he’ll represent all the people, not just the rich ones. Instead of talking about how bad things are, he should help find ways to improve it. Maybe he should look into making donations to free clinics like Clinica Sanando. That’s where I went to get help. They can use donations and volunteers. And if that’s not enough for him, I’m sure the donation is tax deductible.”

Backstage Nicole laughs. He’d gone over what he wanted to say so many times at home, but it’s coming out different, and so much better. 

“Okay. You’ve made some good points,” Murray says. “But really, Arthur--”

“Joker.”

“Okay, Joker, we didn’t have you here to talk about politics.”

“I’m not talking about politics. I’m talking about people.”

Murray raises an eyebrow. “Isn’t it the same thing?”

“It should be.” Arthur holds his gaze.

“Fair enough. Back to the point of you being here. You said your clip was from your first time doing stand-up.”

“Unfortunately.”

“But you’re still doing it?”

“Yeah.” Arthur grins and bats his eyes. “I’d be happy to show you. Like you said, I’m here for comedy, right? Just remember, it’s subjective.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Murray says. The audience laughs, but this time they sound more comfortable. “All right, Joker. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Joker stands and dances onto the open floor. The spotlight shines on the painted wolf. Before he starts, he glances toward Nicole and she smiles.

* * *

“That was awesome!” Nicole hugs Arthur tightly as soon as he steps backstage.

He grunts and flinches in her arms.

“What’s wrong?”

“I think I need to go to the ER.”

Nicole’s stomach clenches and her heart skips a beat. Arthur has never _asked_ to go to the ER, even after he’d been beaten up.

“When Randall’s brother chased me, I sort of ran into a car.”

“What?” Nicole shouts. He’d left out that part when he told her what happened. “Oh my God! Where are you hurt?”

“It’s just my ribs.”

She starts unbuttoning his vest with shaking hands.

“Sweetheart, take it easy. At least wait until we’re home.”

“Stop joking!”

His chuckle ends in a pained grunt.

At that moment, Detectives Amenguale and Wojciehowicz approach.

“Arthur.” Detective Amenguale raises an eyebrow. “Again?”

Arthur merely grins.

* * *

“What a night.” Nicole stretches out beside Arthur in their bed. It’s nearly one in the morning. After the Murray Franklin Show, they spent a few hours in the ER. Arthur has cracked ribs and lots of bruises. He was sent home with pain medication and orders to rest. At the hospital, the police took all his information about Randall’s brother. The person whose car Arthur had hit also filed a report, but due to the circumstances has agreed not to press charges with the understanding that Arthur will pay for damages to the vehicle. It will take a chunk out of their business savings, but Nicole is relieved that there won’t be a court case.

“I can’t believe how well it went on the show.” Arthur still wears his cocky grin and fiddles with a coin. 

Nicole snatches it from him and tosses it onto the night table. Even with the pain meds, he’s still a little wired. Not that she blames him. Joker did so well on the show, even if he had toned down some of his act to comply with Murray’s rules--or at least most of them. Considering Joker’s style, Murray had relaxed the rules a bit due to the audience’s positive reaction.

“Aren’t you tired at all?” She snuggles as close as she can without hurting his ribs.

“I don’t know. I’m just. . .happy, I guess.” He squeezes her and drops a kiss on her hair.

Hearing that warms her. He deserves to be happy. Yet in the back of her mind, she’s worried about Randall’s brother. He tried to kill Arthur, and he’s still out there. Yes, the police are now looking for him, but in the meantime, she, Arthur, and possibly even her parents are in danger.

“I’m tired,” she says.

“Mmm.” He rubs his cheek against her and stifles a yawn. The pain meds have probably kicked in.

It’s not long before they’re both asleep.

  
* * *

In the morning, Nicole wakes before Arthur. She’s putting on her running shoes when he sits up in bed, presses a hand to his injured ribs, and stares at her.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Going for a jog.”

“No way. Not alone. Randall’s brother is still out there.”

Fear washes over her. “You’re right. I wasn’t thinking.”

“I was. For once.” A quirky smile plays around his lips.

“I’ll work out in the attic for a while. Do you want me to make breakfast?”

“I’ll do it.” Arthur rises and walks to the bathroom, his movements a little stiff. Last night on the show, he’d functioned on pure adrenaline. He’d sure felt it afterward, and this morning he must feel even worse.

“No, I’ll do it. I can work out a little later.”

The phone rings. It’s Nicole’s mother asking if she and Arthur want to eat breakfast downstairs. 

A short time later, she and Arthur are dressed and on their way down. The aroma of pancakes and bacon wafts through the house.

“Edna, I’m going to get the mail!” Her father shouts, stepping into the foyer and nearly crashing into Arthur and Nicole. He opens the front door and Randall’s brother shoves him aside, forcing his way into the house.

“I told you, Fleck. I’m gonna fucking kill you.” His meaty fist flies at Arthur. Nicole tries to shove him out of the way, but she gets hit instead. Pain explodes across her cheek and she crashes to the floor.

Arthur lunges at the bigger man and plunges something into the side of his neck. Blood gushes from the wound, and Arthur uses the man’s moment of surprise to grab him and smash his head into the wall over and over. The guy is at least twice Arthur’s size and several inches taller, so he’s forced to throw all his body weight into every blow. 

“Holy shit!” Nicole’s father shouts. 

There’s blood everywhere. 

“What the hell is going on out here?” Nicole’s mother hurries to the foyer, the gun clasped in her hands. 

Randall’s brother is completely unconscious--possibly dead. 

Gasping, Arthur slumps on the ground, pressing a hand to his injured ribs. 

“Edna, call the cops!” Her dad grabs the gun from her mom who runs for the phone.

“Babe, are you okay?” Nicole kneels beside Arthur. His eyes are glassy and unfocused for a few seconds, and then he turns to her. Painful laughter erupts from his throat.

“Are. . .you?” He reaches toward her swelling cheek, but his hand is covered in blood, so he drops it, not touching her.

“Is he dead?” Nicole glances at the body slumped in their foyer.

Her father approaches cautiously to check. “No. The bastard has a pulse. What the hell did you stab him with Arthur? It’s a pen.”

“I keep it on me for the joke diary,” Arthur says softly. His laughter has subsided, but he’s still smiling. He shakes his head. “What’s Anton going to say about this?”

Sirens wail in the distance and grow louder. A police cruiser and an ambulance stop in the driveway.

“More like what’s Sergeant Amenguale going to say about this.” Nicole touches her bruised face. “Ouch.”

Arthur curls his lip. “I should have fucking killed him for touching you.”

"It wasn't for lack of trying," her father says under his breath.

Nicole reaches for Arthur's hand, and he tries to avoid her touch. "I’ve got blood on my hands.”

She holds his gaze, so close that he feels her warmth and breath. “I don’t care.”


	27. Epilogue

Randall’s brother was taken to the hospital where he remained in a coma for several days. Afterward, he was charged with breaking and entering and assault. Since Arthur acted in self-defense in front of three witnesses, and both a gun and a knife were found on his attacker, he wasn’t charged. 

The man whom Arthur had rescued from the car accident recognized him on Live With Murray Franklin and reported it to the papers. After that, everyone in Gotham knew Joker as the man who started the clown movement. Thanks to his plugs on the Murray Show, Clinica Sanando had a flood of donations, and Clown Kingdom had so many customers that they hired several more clowns. They moved into a bigger building and Nicole gave her notice at Holt Neuro. 

Arthur and Nicole married. Clown Kingdom became the most successful clown agency in Gotham, providing a decent wage and benefits for their employees. They put Ha Ha’s out of the clown business entirely, and Hoyt was reduced to booking strippers only. Clown Kingdom expanded to include a clown school, where aspiring clowns could learn the trade from the most famous clown in Gotham. As a side venture, Arthur and Nicole bought Hyena’s Comedy Club from the previous owner when he retired.

Arthur and Nicole now live a comfortable though busy life, make regular donations to the clinica, and help Anton run an emotional health hotline for people in need of support. Carnival the Clown has retired, allowing other clowns to take on the brunt of the daytime gigs so that Joker can focus on his act. He’s become a local celebrity and a recurring guest on Live With Murray Franklin. Carnival still makes appearances once in a while, usually at the children’s hospital and the clinica--both free of charge.

Currently Arthur and Nicole live in Gotham, not too far from Wayne Manor. They have a spacious house with an in-law apartment for Edna and Herb. Penny Fleck remains in a state-run nursing home. Shortly before the election, Thomas Wayne, who still referred to those in Gotham who disagreed with his politics as ‘clowns’ was murdered along with his wife one night on their way home from a theater. He is survived by his only acknowledged son, Bruce.

It’s been five years since the night Arthur defended his family against Randall’s brother, but he’s never forgotten how it felt, and the flashes of the life he might have, if he surrenders to violence again. It’s hard sometimes. Joker has a temper, but he also has an endless stream of love that now fulfills his once desperate need for acceptance.

“I know you said violence is never the answer,” Arthur says to Anton Little Creek one afternoon at a fundraiser for the clinica. They’re alone in the wellness room, and Arthur is dressed as Carnival, taking a break from magic tricks and making balloon animals. “I still think about it sometimes. I never really talked to you about it, because I didn’t think you’d understand.”

“I’ll never condone violence,” Anton says. “But answer one thing, did you have a choice?”

Arthur reflects. “I guess. I could have chosen to let him kill me and probably my wife and in-laws, too.”

A faint smile plays around Anton’s lips. “Sometimes there are no good choices. We need to do what we think is best. All I can say is this--I’m glad you’re here, my friend. I’m glad you and your family are here.”

Arthur smiles and impulsively hugs Anton who squeezes him back.

“Am I interrupting?” Nicole asks from where she stands in the doorway, a glass of lemonade in her hand.

The sight of her still warms Arthur and makes him a little giddy. They’ve been happy over these past years. Yes, they’ve had rocky times, too. A couple of years ago, Arthur had a relapse and nearly jumped off the Gotham Bridge. Detective Amengaule talked him down, and afterward Arthur spent a couple of weeks in the hospital. Since then, he’s been well for the most part. He and Nicole continue to see Doctor Mitchell regularly, and while she’s still working on her anxiety issues, she’s improved, too. Neither will ever be completely free of their problems, but no one is. That’s life, after all.

“No. We were just getting back to the party.” Anton smiles at Nicole before stepping out of the wellness room, leaving her and Arthur alone.

“Here.” Nicole approaches Arthur and offers him the lemonade. 

He wraps an arm around her waist, tugs her close, and leans in to kiss her, but his red clown nose gets in the way. He tugs it off and covers her mouth with his.

“I love you,” he says against her lips.

“I love you, too.” She meets his hungry gaze. 

He puts his red nose back on and takes her hand. His lips curve into a sly grin. Carnival might be performing on the outside, but Joker is underneath. So is Arthur. 

And Nicole loves them all.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this story. Joker is obviously one of my favorite movies. It's about as perfect as it gets, but it feels good to see Arthur get love and understanding in fanfiction. I love reading Arthur fanfic and wanted to offer this one to the mix. Hope you stay safe and well.


End file.
